Undeath Beckons
by The Hint Guy
Summary: A young warlock makes a deal with the Forsaken... and gets more than she bargained for. A tale of friendship, treachery, and adventure starring Blightfire, Dystressi, and others. Contains occasional strong language, violence, and sexuality. Please R&R.
1. Infection

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 1 - Infection

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: SILINA

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

"You won't feel a thing," Din Frostfire remarked, as a puff of his noxious, frigid breath slithered down my neck. My whole body shuddered from the chill.

"Lying bastard," I muttered as I tried not to inhale.

The Lich, although lacking most of his facial muscles, appeared to smile. "Clever girl." He turned away and continued fiddling with some sort of glass object, just beyond where I could see from the nearly vertical table I'd been placed on. I didn't trust him for a second, but I had no other options. Din was the only being under Sylvanas's employ that was willing and able to help me.

The straps at my wrists and ankles had begun to chafe. "Damn, this had best be worth it," I thought. Why I'd needed to be stripped and tied down I had no idea; this procedure was supposed to be swift, painless, and above all, dignified. My idea of a glorious resurrection as a member of the most powerful race in Azeroth—the undead Forsaken—did not include lying nude on a cold slab in some Lich's laboratory. Still, sacrifices had to be made. This was for a greater purpose. This was for power beyond my wildest imaginings.

"Silina!" a deep, penetrating voice cried. I recognized it immediately as the voice of a Dreadlord, specifically the Dreadlord Ayer'Naz. He came striding into view, full of his usual arrogance, a smug grin on his pale face. The stink of sulfur filled the air.

"Ayer'Naz," I growled.

"Comfortable?" Ayer'Naz chuckled. He now stood directly before me. "My my, I'd forgotten that I'd be seeing this much of you…" He grinned wider, his beady black eyes tracing my curves. He raised a clawed hand toward my cheek as he whispered, "For a human, you are quite an attractive specimen…"

"You touch me, you lose a finger," I said contemptuously. Even without my equipment, it would have only taken a few mumbled words and some malicious intent for me to send a shadow bolt right up Ayer'Naz's pointy nose. And I had no qualms about doing just that.

He sensed the danger and backed off. "Humph. Lich, how much longer?"

Din rasped, "I've just finished getting ready. If you'll be so kind as to stand back, milord." Din hovered into view carrying a collection of vials and beakers on a steel tray. He released the tray and it floated at his side. "Milord, if you'll just stand back please…"

"Yes, yes," the Dreadlord said. "One moment." He leaned closer to me, close enough that I could feel his hot breath and smell the rumbling hellfire that burned in his belly. He whispered, "Are you ready, human? Power beyond your dreams. An endless lifespan in which to gain strength. Are you prepared?"

"I am," I replied. Ayer'Naz started to pull away but my stern tone practically dragged him back. "Recall, Dreadlord, our agreement. My service to the Banshee Queen is on a contract basis. And recall," I added, staring hard into his black eyes, "that your life is the price to be paid if I feel so much as the slightest bit of dissatisfaction." I muttered a few words and began to channel a fire spell, causing my pupils to glow fiery red. Ayer'Naz twitched. I cancelled the spell and smiled.

"Tch… foolish human," Ayer'Naz murmured. No matter: the fear on his brow was enough to satisfy me. As he turned I heard him say, "You are not prepared," as if to himself, and then he departed.

"Now we can proceed," Din said. He pulled an unseen lever that caused the table to rotate to a fully horizontal position. "You may be wondering why you're strapped down, and naked."

"I was, actually."

"The straps are to protect you from thrashing about and breaking something," he told me as he poured a dark liquid back and forth between two beakers. The liquid began to radiate a deep purple light. "The nudity is because your clothes will rot off your body the moment you transform." There was a pause. "That, and it has been a long while since I had such a gorgeous woman on my operating table." He attempted to wink, but having no eyelids, all he managed to do was change the glow in his eye sockets a little. "Tell me, are you into necrophilia?" he asked, moving closer.

"No!" I snapped. Every cell in my body was repulsed by the very notion. "If you lay so much as one bony finger on me, by the Hells I will rip your spine off and make you eat it!" I snarled.

"Oo, a feisty one!" he said, laughing. He lofted the beakers. "Shall I begin the procedure?"

This Lich disgusted me, but I had no choice. I sighed and said in reply, "Very well."

"Good." Din immediately poured the contents of the beakers he was holding in a line down the center of my body, starting with my neck. The potion was bitterly cold, and I gasped from the shock. Another beaker, this one full of warm green ooze, was dumped down one side of me, then the other. I could feel it pooling beneath the base of my spine, sending shivers. The lich levitated a few more beakers of green liquid into the air above me and dumped them. Now I was drenched up to my chin with the pungent slime; it began to seep into my skin, gurgling into every orifice and pore. My vision became slightly blurred.

"What are you doing?" I managed to say. My throat seemed strangely tight, but I was relieved that so far I'd experienced no pain.

"Infection," he replied gleefully. "Open wide."

I grudgingly did as he asked, and was rewarded with a mouthful of disgusting, bitter paste. I barely managed to choke it down before another spoonful was thrust in. This too I swallowed.

"yes, yes," the Lich said. "Now just a few more things…" Something was happening. I felt a tingling sensation over my whole body, inside and out. Tingling soon gave way to prickling, which gave way to burning.

"Ow… oh gods!" I howled. I began to writhe on the table. My vision blurred further; I could taste blood and tears, and hear a dull ringing. "Whuv you done?" I slurred loudly. Now a new agony struck my gut. I felt like my organs were trying to rip themselves free of my flesh. I felt something pierce my arm; Din had inserted a needle and was injecting me with what appeared to be black gas. It was cold, so cold… I could feel it rushing into my veins. Like ice, so cold…

Suddenly I lost control of my muscles and began to thrash violently. The straps held me in place, but my torso twisted from side to side. I began chanting spells at random, through no will of my own. A Shadow Bolt appeared before me and shot off toward the rafters. I felt a Curse of Agony go flying, followed by another Shadow Bolt. Each spell I cast drained me of some of my mana; my body was growing weaker by the second. I cried out again, some unintelligible obscenity.

Through the pain, tears, and distorted senses, I could make out Din's rattling laughter. Bastard was getting off on this.

My vision grew darker still. I could feel a new sensation now. Mercifully, this one gradually overtook the pain, and my body relaxed. I saw colored lights dancing and heard the sound of church bells. The feeling was a buildup, a tension. Something was being drawn out of me. Now above me in the air I began to see little red droplets; I tried to speak but no words came, and the droplets grew larger.

Blood. I was being bled to death out of every pore. I panicked, but my muscles wouldn't react, so I remained still, my mind buzzing with screams and lamentations. What was happening to me?

"Now sleep, little wretched one," Din's voice whispered. It echoed from everywhere, and I realized he was using telepathy. "Sleep eternally in the Void!" And I felt a strong compulsion to obey, to follow his command. The Lich began to chant in Demonic, and blue lights appeared before my eyes, obscuring the rest of the scene. Sleep seemed more and more inviting as the chanting continued.

Instantly, I knew what was happening. This spell was going to drain me of my will. I would be a slave, either to this Lich, or Ayer'Naz, or the Banshee Queen herself. I'd been duped, tricked, and I'd fallen for it like a pathetic sap. Well, we'd see about that. The Lich had yet to finish the ritual that would bind my will to his, or so I hoped.

Summoning every ounce of my strength and energy, I readied a Hellfire spell and let loose. Unbearable heat engulfed my body; I could see the waves of distortion rising, and the burning pain I now felt told me that this was a particularly potent Hellfire. A burst of scorching fire exploded in a circle around me. The lich howled as flames licked his robes and set them ablaze. The beakers on the tray shattered loudly. The blue lights faded and I could see again, just as I'd predicted.

"What are you doing! You bitch!" he roared.

My bindings melted away, releasing me from the table and allowing me to leap unsteadily to my feet. My blood was mostly gone, but somehow I remained animated, and I knew it was already too late to stop the transformation. Still, my will was my own, and as long as I could prevent the Lich from regaining control—or consciousness—I would be free.

"Burn! Burn!" I cackled, lighting up the Lich with an Immolate spell followed by the twin tongues of fire known as Incinerate. His skeletal form was engulfed in flame, and he stumbled around the chamber, flailing wildly. I used this moment to look around. The room was rather small and mostly empty, with the table in the dead center. There was no one else present, which I found slightly odd but certainly advantageous. My equipment was nowhere in sight, but I noticed a glowing purple Soul Shard resting on the tray Din had been using. I grabbed the tiny crystal and I turned my attention back to the Lich, who had nearly regained control.

"You will pay for this!" he snarled, launching a large Frostbolt at me. I took it hard in the chest, but my rage would not be stopped, and I shook it off like it was nothing more than a snowball.

"Die!" I cried, muttering a Curse of The Elements to increase my fire's potency followed immediately by another column of flame from Immolate. Din was again surrounded by fire and began dancing madly. I struck him with Incinerate once, twice, then Conflagrate, causing the flames on his body to detonate. Drawing the power from the Soul Shard, I summoned forth a massive fireball and let it fly. The Soul Fire struck dead on, right in the center of Din's ribcage. He tumbled to the floor and rolled there, his form all but completely obscured by raging fire. He screamed for mercy.

Feeling no remorse and a sense of boundless bloodlust, I lit Din up with another Immolate, and his agonized screams grew louder and more desperate. He was nearing death.

"Am I into necrophilia?" I said mockingly. "Pervert!" Din had climbed to his feet, but he still hadn't put out the fire from my earlier assault. "You wretched bastard. Burn in the Twisting Nether!" I roasted him with Immolate, and a final Conflagrate finished the job; he howled one last time as his skull exploded, sending charred, shattered bone fragments tumbling through the air, I shielded my face as a shower of them rained down on me. Din Frostfire was no more.

Immediately my legs gave out. I collapsed to the hard floor, my vision swimming. "Got to get out," I thought to myself. The pain had returned, stronger than ever, and it was all I could do to even stay awake at this point. I looked around quickly, hoping to find… yes! A small chute labeled "Corpses" was set into the wall not five paces from me.

I climbed to my feet and took in one final sweep of the room, hoping that my equipment might have simply evaded my first glance. No luck. My blood was still hovering in the air above the slab; I bid it a mental farewell, reeled, vomited black ooze onto the carved stone floor, and staggered clumsily toward the chute, managing to shove myself halfway in. I had no strength left to push off from the ground, but a convenient muscle spasm caused my legs to launch me headfirst into the darkness.

As I fell, it occurred to me just how foolish and desperate my escape plan was. Did this chute lead to an incinerator? A cesspool? A pit of spikes? I knew not, but as I skidded against the walls and tumbled around the bends in the tunnel, I hardly cared. The pain was too great. I felt bones breaking and flesh ripping. The plague that had infected my body was gaining strength; I could feel it churning within me, changing every inch of me, turning me from a living, breathing human… into a member of the Forsaken.

Undeath's icy hand beckoned. Mortal consciousness faded. The darkness claimed me, and I was gone.


	2. The Birth of Blightfire

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 2 – The Birth of Blightfire

LOADING…

CHANGING REALM…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

ERROR… UNABLE TO RETRIEVE CHARACTER INFORMATION…

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

I opened my eye sockets and stared up at the inside of a coffin. The acrid stench of decay filled my nostrils, but this concern was a mere gnat in the face of the giant problem of being buried… alive? Was I still alive? Did that word even have any meaning for me now? I reached up in the near-darkness—there was some kind of orange light radiating through cracks above me—and pushed, hoping that maybe I'd get lucky. I did; the lid of the coffin toppled easily, revealing a high stone ceiling lit with torches.

I sat up with some difficulty. My muscles seemed to be behaving strangely. What was this place? I took stock of my surroundings; yet even as I gazed around what I quickly ascertained to be a crypt, I was struck by a far more pressing question: _Who am I?_

"Hello?" I rasped. Gods, was that _my_ voice? That low, growling snarl that stampeded around the room like an angry beast? I could've sworn I remembered it being nicer than that. I stretched out my fingers, feeling an unusual weight. A visual examination confirmed what I was sensing: my digits were now bony and thin, with terrifying claws where my nails used to be. At least, I thought I used to have nails. I knew that wasn't how my hands had always looked, at any rate.

The rest of me was the same way: a quick scan up and down my body revealed dramatic changes, although what I'd looked like prior to now remained a mystery. My skin—I knew not what color it had originally been—was now an ashy white, with occasional blue and gray highlights. Where my elbows and knees once were now jutted bone, bleached and cracked. My hips were bone as well. Looking down at my toes, I discovered that talons similar to those on my hands had burst though the ragged brown shoes I was wearing. Where had these shoes come from? They didn't look familiar. Neither did the worn pants and tunic I was clad in. I put a clawed hand to my head—ow, shit, pricked myself—and felt my hair. It was stringy, like old twine.

Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is one thing. Waking up on the wrong side of the line between life and death is quite another. I began to feel very uneasy and nervous: Alone, a zombie, and unable to remember how either of those states of affairs had come about. I decided to try standing, and found myself able. The crypt around me was practically filled to the brim with coffins just like the one I'd been in: simple, plain wooden jobs with loosely attached lids. The air stank of mold and rot.

I called out again: "Is anyone there?" Ugh. That rasp was going to take some getting used to. Not knowing quite what else to do, I navigated my way toward a set of stairs leading up out of the catacomb. A few quick turns brought me to the surface, and another startling sight: someone else. Someone… dead.

"Well, lookit that. Another one awakens. G'morning sleepyhead! Have a nice dirt nap?" the ghoul asked. I took a quick stock of him, and for some unknown reason, my mind picked out certain features as important: no weapons, lightweight armor, plain garb. He had a crooked, toothless smile, and was also missing his elbows, knees, and hips. His eyes were obscured beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

"H-hello," I mumbled, suddenly afraid. Who was this man? Or rather, zombie?

"It's a good thing you woke up. We were about ready to toss you into the fire with the others." I now noted the smell of burning wood and flesh in the air.

"Yeah… good thing," I said uneasily.

The man gestured down the wooded hill behind him, toward a small village nestled in the pines. "Welcome to Deathknell. Name's Undertaker Mordo. And you are the Lich King's slave no more."

"Lich… King's slave?" I stammered. Instantly, a memory hit me like a steel fist: falling. Blackness. Landing, hard. Then sleep, very long sleep.

"Head on down to the chapel and speak with Shadow Priest Sarvis. He'll get you oriented." Mordo pointed at a building with a tall spire. "Chapel's that one. Get movin'!"

I hustled away, not wanting to anger the first semi-friendly figure I'd met since I became… this. Whatever I was. Undead, of that I could be sure, but I was not a mindless creature of the night. The Lich King… I knew that name, but not because I'd been his servant. No… I'd never been a slave. The cold grass made little _krish krish _sounds as I tromped through it, making my way down a winding dirt road to the town. There were many undead here, some clad in armor, others in robes. All of them seemed to be staring at me, and I shivered as I noticed that where their eyes had once been, there now hung orbs of yellow light, radiating with an eerie glow.

The doors to the church were missing, allowing me immediate access as I walked up a set of rotting wooden steps. I approached a priestly-looking man in the back, standing on a raised platform at a pulpit.

"Shadow Priest Sarvis?" I asked, my raspy voice filled with fear.

"Another of the walking dead, hm? Must have been quite a shock, waking up in the crypt with only the cold and Mordo to greet you…" He tilted his head at me. "I see the confusion on your face. Let me try to explain our… situation… to you." He gestured to a nearby empty pew, and I sat down. My bony hips clicked against the wood. "We have been freed from the control of the Lich King by our new leader, Lady Sylvanas. The Dark Lady guides us in our war against the hated Scourge and the holdouts of humanity who dog our every step."

"Father?" I spoke up, "Sorry, but I don't remember ever being the Lich King's slave."

Sarvis paused. "You don't?"

"No. I just… I remember falling and blacking out… and waking up here."

He put two ragged fingers to… nothing, since he had no jaw or chin. Frankly I'd been quite amazed at how easy he was to understand up to this point. "Interesting. What is your name?"

"My name?" I had no idea. "I don't remember."

"Your profession?"

"No clue."

"Your hometown?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

"Well… that is unusual." He motioned in the general direction of the crypt. "Most of the bodies that drag themselves out of there have very vivid memories of their servitude, and who they were before the Plague. It seems your amnesia is going to make things a bit difficult, however." He stopped to think. I shifted nervously. Why couldn't I remember anything? Was there something wrong with me?

"I only know that I was human, and that I haven't been plagued for very long," I informed him, hoping that piece of information might be of use.

"Yes, yes. Well, how about this: Head over to the Inn and let Deathguard Saltain know that I sent you to get some rest. Perhaps a few hours of solitude will bring something back to you."

I rose and bowed. "Thank you Father."

He shook his finger at me. "Among the Forsaken, we have a different means of showing respect. I will teach you." He stood at attention and crossed both arms over his chest, forming an X. I repeated the procedure, and realized as I did it that I was assuming the posture of a corpse in a coffin. Clever. Shadow Priest Sarvis returned to his work at the pulpit, and I turned to go.

As I walked across the creaky floor, I made sure to step carefully so as not to trip on my new, bigger toenails. Just then I spotted an oddly familiar sight. Which was very weird, since I didn't yet remember who I was. How could anything be familiar in this twisted place? I stopped dead—haha, good one—and stared.

"Excuse me?" I said tentatively. The Forsaken woman standing next to the beast acknowledged me. "What is that?"

"That's an Imp," she answered simply.

"Wazzup," the Imp grunted in a squeaky voice.

"His name is Zerk." She patted his head, and he swatted at her with tiny hands. "He's a good little impy wimpy!"

"Uh… huh," I muttered, backing away. "Thanks." Immediately, another memory hit me: an Imp just like Zerk at my side, chattering away. Bolts of fire springing from his fingertips. I shook my head and continued walking. Soon I reached the Inn across the road from the chapel.

"Yes? Your business?" asked a heavily armed Forsaken soldier with a face that looked like it'd been mauled by a bear.

"Deathguard Saltain?"

"I am."

"Sarvis sent me. I'm supposed to get some rest here for a while?" I couldn't look him in the eye sockets. He just creeped me out too much.

Saltain grumbled something about "freeloaders" and admitted me into the Inn. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, which I could sense was hot but found myself unable to feel on my putrid skin. One table was occupied by a couple of Forsaken in fancy robes; I assumed these to be other guests. A female Forsaken in an apron waved at me from across the room.

"Hello! I'm Venya Marthand. What brings you to Death's Rest today?" she asked excitedly, walking up to me. I noticed that her hair—somehow styled in a massive column that jutted out of her head like a tower—was a foul mustard color. Did mine look like that too?

"I was sent by Shadow Priest Sarvis. I… need to regain my memories."

What little was left of her face became instantly sympathetic. "Oh dear. Well, don't feel bad. You're not the first to have that problem. Come, I have a room upstairs that'll be perfect for you." She led me up a staircase and through a few corridors. Stopping before a wooden door, she produced a key from her apron and let me into the room. "I'll be tidying up downstairs if you require anything. Supper's at six. There's a clock by the window, water on the nightstand, and extra blankets under the bed. Not that we can feel heat anymore, but sometimes it's nice to pretend." She winked at me. Good, so it wasn't just me who couldn't sense warmth anymore. Another oddity of being a walking corpse, I supposed.

"Thank you," I told her sincerely. "It's nice to meet someone friendly here."

She smiled, revealing black nubs of teeth. "My pleasure. I know how hard it can be when you first get out of the grave. We were all there once, you know." She patted me gently on the arm. "I'm sure your memories will come back to you in no time. The last girl who had amnesia only needed a few hours before she remembered who she was. I'm certain you'll be the same way."

I performed the Forsaken salute, which Venya returned. She left me sitting alone in the tiny bedroom.

My first action was to draw a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. I slurped it clumsily, dribbling down my shirt, my unfamiliar lips and blanched tongue stumbling through the action. Swallowing also proved difficult, but I managed that after a few tries. The water had no taste at all, not even of minerals or dirt, which I could clearly see in my cup. Would I be able to taste anything ever again? At least I could still smell, see, and hear.

I felt my breathing grow quicker. "Get ahold of yourself, whoever you are," I whispered. My next move was to slip off my shoes and outer garments, revealing tattered but functional underclothes beneath. How courteous of someone to dress up a corpse in a bra and panties. The word "necrophilia" flitted through my mind, unprompted. There was a tall mirror against one wall; I stood before it and examined myself carefully, hoping maybe this act would spark a recollection.

Massive claws on my fingers and toes. Bones for hips, elbows, and knees. My remaining fleshy parts—stomach, thighs, calves, shoulders—were gaunt, leathery, and slightly sagging in places; although it seemed my breasts hadn't lost their perkiness—I remembered being quite proud of them when I was alive. My lower half appeared largely intact, but I had a sneaking suspicion that many bodily functions were now diminished or non-existent. No more biological clock, that was for sure. My vision crept up to my face, and I felt a ragged gasp leave my throat.

The sides of my cheeks, right below my dimples, were gone. Only hollow black holes remained, which would explain my difficulty keeping the water in my mouth earlier. The lower part of my jaw skin and bottom lip were also worn away, revealing gray bone and rotted teeth beneath. Instead of glowing orbs, I found that I had nothing at all where my eyes used to be: just empty, soulless black spaces, with long, thin lines running vertically through the middle of each socket and into my upper cheeks and eyebrows. It was almost like someone had cut my eyes in two and pulled them out.

My nose was okay. It was cute. Had a silver stud in the side of the left nostril. But my hair… ugh. Sickly aqua green, like a fungus growing on the side of a log. I shook with revulsion as I saw how it hung on my head like a wet mop. At least my ears were cute too. One final detail caught my eye—although without eyes it was impossible to tell where I was looking: a tiny, ripped hole in my left eyebrow, on the far edge. I studied it a moment. The hole was there on purpose. I'd once had an eyebrow piercing?

Boom! Like a firecracker going off in my face, a sudden burst of memories exploded into my mind: Human hands with painted nails. Human skin, dark brown, like milk chocolate. Black, silky hair tied back in a ponytail. Eyes. Deep brown eyes. A beautiful, auburn set of lips hiding healthy teeth, and no visible bones to speak of. The final memory: a glistening silver ring through the hole in my eyebrow.

That was what I used to look like, before… this. Before the Plague, or whatever had made me into the hideous fiend I now saw in the mirror. I shook my head and let out a groan of distress. How had this happened to me? I was beautiful once… beautiful and powerful. I could now recall power of some kind. Political? Magical? Who knew?

I let myself fall onto the bed, and before I knew it I was asleep. But sleep was no refuge: I dreamt only of falling, screaming, of bony faces rimmed with frost, of sulfur, of lion heads on blue shields. I woke up with a shriek. There was a knock at my door.

"Dearie? Supper is ready, if you'd like," Venya called through the thin wood.

"I'll be right down," I replied sleepily. I heard her footsteps fade. Did I want to go downstairs and socialize? Well… it was probably for the best. Maybe I'd remember more. I rose, dressed, and headed down.

As I entered the dining room, a high, nasal voice struck my ears, "…to thwart Korgal's plans. Ah, another new creep enters the scene." I swiveled to spot the owner of the voice: a well-dressed Forsaken man was sitting near the hearth with a few others, sipping wine. He was watching me curiously. I noticed a pair of very nasty-looking daggers at his sides, and my inner threat assessment abilities—the source of which I now assumed was my past life—informed me that this guy was not someone I should mess with.

"Hail," I said in greeting.

He nodded at me, then returned to his conversation. But as I found a table, I noticed him sneaking glances at me out of the corner of his orbs—despite the fact that he had no eyeballs, I was somehow able to tell when his gaze was fixed on me. Venya brought me a bowl of hearty stew and a mug of spring water. Without a second glance, I devoured the food, tasting nothing but slight hints of salty and savory. My hunger seemed insatiable. I forgot all about the man and ordered another bowl. Minutes passed.

I looked up from my third helping of stew. The man was sitting at my table. How had he gotten there without me noticing?

"Pardon the intrusion. I am David Trias, trainer of those of the roguish persuasion in Deathknell. I spend most of my time here in the Inn keeping an eye out for new faces and just keeping tabs on up-and-coming prospects. I couldn't help but notice your…" I waited for the pigheaded remark. It didn't come. Instead, he finished with, "…tattoo."

"My wha?" I gurgled in shock, dribbling stew onto my filthy tunic. God, what a pathetic sight I must've been. What tattoo was he talking about?

"On the back of your neck." Damn, I hadn't even checked that side of my body! "That mark… I feel like I've seen it before." He was leaning toward me with an intense expression on his rotting face. "In fact, I know I have." He grinned wickedly at me.

"Ooav?" I grunted as I attempted to swallow my stew, with minimal success.

David nodded. "A black skull wrapped in bronze chains. It's the same mark I saw on another traveler who came through here just a few days ago. Her name, what was it…" He snapped his fingers a few times, producing a sound like flint against steel. "Dystressi, I believe."

I finally managed to gulp down the stew, and took a sip of water. "Really? You did?" I suddenly became very interested. Perhaps this Dystressi knew something about who I was! I peppered David with questions: "Where did she go? Who was she? What was the mark?"

"Whoa, whoa! Easy!" He ordered another glass of wine from Venya, and began sipping it thoughtfully as he recounted the tale: "She came down from the crypt without her memories, same as you."

"Wait, how did you know I-"

"I'm a rogue." He tilted his head coyly at me and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _Isn't the answer obvious?_

"Oh."

"Anyway, she remembered only a few things about herself: that she was trained in armed combat rather than magic, that she was looking for someone important to her, and that she'd fallen victim to the blight while in the Plaguelands, far east of here. She didn't ever remember her real name. Dystressi was what she chose to call herself, after she began her training."

"Training? Training for what?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "My, your brain really has begun to mold." I bristled a bit at this remark. "Training to be a rogue, of course! A Shadowstalker like myself. I was the one who trained her, after all."

"Okay, so she's a rogue now. Where did she go? Did she remember who she was looking for? And did she say anything about the symbol?" I was getting antsy. I really wanted to jump up and find a mirror so I could look at it for myself.

"Relax. I'll tell you everything you want to know." David leaned in closer. dropping his voice. "But I didn't get to be where I am without learning this critical fact: information isn't free." He grinned at me again, and leaned back.

I swallowed loudly. "Not… free?"

"I have a favor I need taken care of. A teeny, tiny… _reacquisition_, of some important materials that have gone missing from my private supply. You'll be venturing into the Scourge-occupied quarter of Deathknell to get them. If you can carry out the task, I'll tell you more about this girl: who she was looking for, what her tattoo meant, and where she went." He gestured toward me. "The choice is yours."

"Well," I started. Was this a good idea? I was still barely able to eat without dribbling on myself like an infant, and here it sounded like this David Trias wanted me to do a pretty dangerous chore for him. But hell, I wasn't gaining any ground just sitting around here. "Okay. You've got a deal. What do you want me to do?"

* * *

"By the Void!" I yelped as I tore out of the abandoned barn with two rattlecage skeletons and a mindless zombie hot on my heels. The dagger at my side clinked loudly and uncomfortably against my bones as I skirted round the backside of the ramshackle building. With a shaking hand, I drew the blade. Time for an ambush… hopefully. In truth I had no idea what the hell I was doing. But after hours of searching and slaying Scourge, I'd spotted the artifact I needed for David in that barn; and I'd be damned—well, damned further—if I didn't at least make a good effort at getting it.

"Eeeargh!" one of the skeletons crackled as I drove my dagger into its skull. It crumpled into a pile of lifeless bones. The other skeleton took a swing at me, bruising my thin arm even through the leather armor I was now wearing. I lashed out at it with the dagger, severing its spine and killing (rekilling?) it. The mindless zombie, meanwhile, was eagerly trying to devour my shoulder. I shrugged him off and took a few swings. Missed. He moaned at me, his beady blue eye orbs glowing, his ruined jaw hanging by a few threads. Suddenly, another wretched zombie nearby noticed us, and decided to join the buffet line.

"Help!" I screamed. The two disgusting monsters were taking turns chomping into me, and it was all I could do to keep them from knocking me down and feasting on my inner organs. Every bite they managed to steal released a small cascade of blackish, gas-like liquid, which, judging from the pain and increasing sense of weakness, I assumed to be the Forsaken version of blood. I let out another scream, "Gods, someone help me!"

As if from nowhere, a shadowy bolt of purple energy topped with a cackling skull came rocketing from behind the zombies, bursting against one of them and pushing it over. The other monster paused momentarily, as if confused. _What is this new intrusion_, it seemed to be asking itself. No time for an answer: a column of flame from the ground incinerated it before my eyes. The Forsaken who'd saved me, a young-looking zombie in burgundy robes, moved swiftly to my side. Her hair and face were much more intact than mine—very pretty, really—and she had a wooden staff held at her back with a leather strap.

"You should be more careful out here!" she scolded gently, removing something from the travel pack at her hip. "I'm Mitexi. What's your name?"

I groaned in reply. Both my shoulders were tattered messes of black goop and mangled white flesh, the ooze dripping down the hardened leather chestplate and sleeves hanging loosely off my body. The dagger had long since dropped from my aching hand. I wanted to tell her how appreciative I was, but my vocal cords were refusing to cooperate.

"Thx," I managed to grunt, skipping the vowel.

In moments I began to feel slightly better: the girl was wrapping my wounds with a light linen bandage. "There we go Thicks,"—did she think my name was Thicks?—"good as new." She giggled. It sounded like nails on sandpaper. "Well, not really good as new. But it'll be enough to get you back to town. C'mon, let's go."

"No," I mumbled. My vision was a bit hazy, but at least my arms didn't really hurt anymore. What the hell was _in_ that bandage? I could get used to that feeling. "Gotta get… thing fer… guy."

Mitexi tilted her head at me. "Do you? Hm. Where is it?"

"In… barn." I thumped my fist against the red, chipped paint. "Shelves… back…" I knew the way was clear now. I'd drawn out all the opposition with my stupid attempt at a stealthy entry. Mitexi nodded and helped me walk around the barn. We ventured inside. One wall was nothing but hay bales, while on the other I spotted a set of shelves. And there, nestled comfortably amidst some seed bags, was a tiny golden box. "Thazit!" I groaned, pointing at the chest.

Mitexi retrieved it. "This little thing? This is what you were asked to get?" She attempted to open it, but found it locked. "Hm. Whoever sent you out here might be playing a trick on you… this thing doesn't look very valuable."

"Please," I mumbled, holding out my hands. She shrugged and passed it to me. I quickly checked the top—yes, there was the crest he'd described—and stowed the box in the pouch at my side. "Thank you."

Mitexi smiled. "Don't thank me just yet. Wait until we're back in Deathknell, then you can be grateful." Her face became worried. "It's getting dark out now—darker than usual I mean—and that means the zombies and skeletons will be even more ferocious than normal. They always get worse at night."

She wasn't kidding. Within thirty staggered paces of the barn, we were already under siege by a parade of horrific aberrations. Mitexi handled the situation with skill unlike anything I'd seen in this unlife: shadow bolts flew left and right as she muttered curses and spells under her breath. Walls of zombies fell before her like waves breaking on rocks. I limped along behind, lashing out with my daggers when the beasts got too close. But watching her throw magic around like it was nothing quickly set a twitch in my mind: since I seemed so unsuited to melee, perhaps I could learn to do what she was doing? If my memories could be trusted—and I wasn't so sure about that, to be honest—then I'd once had the ability to summon demons, and presumably do what Mitexi now did with ease.

"Can you teach me?" I asked her plainly, after she annihilated another cluster of skeletons.

She turned her bright yellow eye orbs toward me. "Teach you?"

"How to do that. How to cast that spell."

Mitexi cocked her head at me. "But you're a rogue? You can't do magic."

I shook my head. "I'm no rogue. I took this gear because I didn't know what else to do. But I think I can do that. Teach me, please."

"Well, okay. But be careful." Mitexi had me repeat a few words in Demonic until I could do them from memory. "That's Shadow Bolt. Now, to cast it, all you do is say the words-" the phase left her lips, "-thrust out your hand-" she held up a bony finger at a zombie several yards off, "-and concentrate on moving the magic through your body." A blast of black energy left her palm. It blew the ghoul's head off. "That's the key part: if you're not magically inclined, you won't be able to do it."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Try it on that skeleton."

I mumbled the words and concentrated. In seconds, I could feel a rush of power up my arm, and almost like a breath leaving my body, the Shadow Bolt flew from my hand into the bonebag, killing it.

Mitexi clapped excitedly. "You got it! Get rid of those daggers: you're a warlock now!"

I grinned, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since I'd come back to life. "Yeah, I guess I am. Thanks Mitexi."

"Don't mention it. Now help me blow through that group over there. Town isn't too far, but we've still got a lot of Scourge to get past." The two of us charged forward, bolts of shadowy energy flying from our fingertips. I found that casting spells was slightly draining on me; Mitexi informed me that I'd need to keep track of my mana now, and make sure I didn't tire myself out too quickly. "Your mana is like a physical manifestation of your concentration. If you sit down and relax for a moment, you'll gain it back quickly. Drinking water helps too." She paused in her instructions to burn the head off a nearby creep with a blast of Searing Pain. "The better you get at concentrating during battle, the more mana you'll regenerate while fighting."

We fought past building after building in the Scourge occupied quarter of Deathknell. Mitexi was on a mission to collect supplies for the town, so we occasionally stopped on our way so she could gather clothing and weapons from crates stacked near the abandoned structures. I helped carry some of the load.

This wasn't so bad. I could get used to having a partner out here. Mitexi didn't say much, but she did tell me a bit about herself between fights. She'd been afflicted by the Plauge in Strahnbrad, a town to the southeast, and had served the Lich King for a year before being saved by Sylvanas. She didn't want to talk about what she'd done as a mindless slave, I quickly noted. But she was happy to tell me more about what her life had been like: her two children, her husband, a simple existence as the town seamstress. I silently wished I had memories like hers to reflect on.

The ruins of Deathknell through which we were moving had an empty, melancholy air. Mitexi informed me that, sadly, most of the Scourge we were fighting could've been Forsaken, if only they'd had a bit more of their brains intact. Breaking free of the Lich King's will, she said, required a certain level of uncorrupted intellect, below which there was no hope.

As we neared the final hill leading to inner Deathknell and safety, I asked, "So can you summon an Imp yet?"

She shook her head, looking a bit discouraged. "No. I've been trying to learn, but Maximillion—the warlock trainer—says that I need to get the basics down better before I can cast a spell like that."

"Oh. What about-"

"Grraah!" a ghastly voice roared. The door to an empty building right beside us burst open, sending both of us tumbling to the dirt. Out of the farmhouse rushed a gang of ghouls unlike the ones we'd been fighting prior to now: these monsters were wearing rough armor and had bloodstained cleavers in their stale hands. Leaping to our feet, Mitexi and I backpedaled quickly, she throwing spells over her shoulder as we ran, me trying not to scream in fear. The four ghouls gave chase immediately. Their cleavers gleamed in the moonlight.

"Take cover! I'll hold them off!" Mitexi thundered. I needed no further encouragement; in seconds I was huddled beside a pile of wood, out of sight. Mitexi whirled to face the four oncomers and began peppering them with Shadow Bolts and Immolates. One went down quickly—the skeleton—but the other three were nearly upon her. She dodged as best she could, taking a few good hits from blades.

"Texi!" I shrieked as black blood gushed from her wounds. She limped backward, casting as she went. I had to do something! I began firing Shadow Bolts from my hiding place, landing several direct hits. Another zombie went down, leaving just two standing.

One of which noticed me. Shit.

As he barreled in my direction, I fled from my hiding place, just in time to see Mitexi collapse beside a knoll with black ooze leaking from her side like oil from an old machine. I couldn't leave her, so I changed course and thumped the zombie standing over her with my body. A jolt of pain caused me to cry out. Probably not the best idea to use my injured shoulder as a weapon. The two zombies, now hungry for blood, move slowly toward us, cleavers raised.

"Save… yourself…" Mitexi groaned, her voice barely a whisper.

"No! I won't leave you!" I yelled. There had to be something else I could do: Shadow Bolts weren't affecting these two at all. Needed to remember… needed to remember… yes!

Like a key turning the tumblers in a door, my mind unlocked, allowing me access to a whole bank of spells. I roared in Demonic, unleashing a Curse of Agony. A tiny skull appeared above one of the zombies, and he began grunting in pain. I cast Corruption on the other, causing his flesh to start deteriorating at a rapid pace. A quick pair of Immolates ignited their thin bodies, raising the volume of the moans.

"Burn! Burn in the Twisting Nether!" I thundered, casting Conflagrate. The flames roasting both zombies immediately exploded, taking the flesh right off their bones and downing the beasts. Wasting no time, I rummaged through Mitexi's pack and found another linen bandage.

"You… did it," she exhaled, her eye orbs growing dimmer.

"Hold on Mitexi. I've got you." I wrapped her up as best I could. Thank Gods: she was able to sit up again, and with my help climbed to her feet.

"Guess we're… even now," she groaned with a weak smile. "Gather their weapons… might be worth something…"

I rummaged around where the attackers had fallen, collecting four cleavers, a set of identification papers, a signet ring, and two necklaces. Not a bad haul. One of the zombies was wearing a cloth belt that my senses informed me was magical, so I took that as well. With Mitexi slung over one shoulder, I managed to drag our two corpses back to Deathknell, just a few hundred yards away. We made it safely to the barricaded section, where a Deathstalker met us and helped us to the Chapel.

Shadow Priest Sarvis was waiting inside. "By the Forgotten Shadow! You two are in bad shape!" He beckoned over a robed Forsaken man standing nearby, and instructed him to tend to my wounds. Mitexi was laid out on a pew, and Sarvis began chanting over her, repairing her torn flesh.

Meanwhile, the man hummed a tune to himself as he unwrapped my bandages. "I'm Dark Cleric Duesten," he told me calmly. "Let's take a look at this… oo, yes. Got a bit chewed up, huh?"

I nodded wearily. I was suddenly very, very tired. "Where is Maximillion?" I asked, slurring a bit.

Duesten gave me a funny look. "Maximillion? He usually creeps around the graveyard. What do you want him for? You're a rogue, aren't you?"

"No… I'm a warlock." It felt good to say that. Knowing some fact about myself gave me a sense of security unlike anything I'd yet experienced in my unlife.

Duesten sighed. "If that is your chosen path, then so be it." With a quick wave of his hands, he restored the flesh on my shoulders. It felt like they'd never been damaged, and they looked smooth and unscarred.

"Wow! Thank you!" I gushed. "Hey, can you fix my face too while you're at it?" I gestured to the holes in my cheeks.

"Alas, I cannot. When you were reanimated, your body entered a sort of 'stasis'. In other words, however you looked with you got out of the grave is how you're going to look from now on." He smiled at me, and I suddenly noticed he was missing a large piece of his throat. "You'll get used to it. Now, if you're feeling better, let's go see how your friend is doing."

We walked over. Mitexi was standing beside the Shadow Priest, chatting away. Her wounds appeared fully healed. Duesten left me there and returned to another part of the church.

Mitexi turned as I approached. "Hey! Thicks! You're okay!" She shot me a huge smile. "I'm glad you made it. That was some amazing stuff you did out there! I was just telling Father Sarvis about it."

"Yes," Sarvis confirmed. "It sounds as though you've regained a bit of your memory now, am I right?" He noticed the cleavers I'd stuffed in my belt. "But what are these?" I removed all the items I'd pilfered from the zombies and laid them on his pulpit, relating the tale of their acquisition as I did so. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Those four you fought… yes, I have no doubt… you see, sometimes Forsaken are so unhappy with being sentient undead that, even after being freed, they make the choice to return to the Lich King. These four you describe sound like four of our flock that departed for that purpose a few weeks ago. I had wondered what had become of them." He held up the necklaces and said, "Stephen Bhartec and Karrel Grayves." The signet ring: "Saumel Fipps." The papers: "Daniel Ulfman." He handed me the belt. "This magical belt looks like it may help you, so you should hang onto it."

I felt a bit nervous. "So… should I not have killed them?"

He chuckled. "Ha! No, killing them was the right thing to do. They were servants of the Lich King, after all, and by choice no less. 'Twas a fitting end for traitors."

Mitexi gave me a wink. "Thicks, you're scoring points all over the place today."

I beamed. "I guess so."

"Thicks?" Sarvis said inquisitively.

"Oh." Time to fess up. "Mitexi, that's not really my name."

She looked confused. "But you said-"

"No, I was just delirious. I… don't actually remember my name."

"Still hasn't come back to you?" Sarvis questioned, concern in his voice. I shook my head no. "Well… perhaps it's time you chose a new name, then. Can't go around being called 'hey you' for the rest of your death." He would've shot me a smile if he still had a mouth to smile with.

Mitexi clapped her hands excitedly. "Ooh! Yes! A name! What will it be?"

I thought a moment. Sarvis and Mitexi watched me expectantly, but as I stared back, the memories I'd managed to snatch out of the Nether clouded my vision. I could see my old, beautiful face before me now, almost ghost-like, but still as real as any memory could be. Around me floated images from my past: the blackness I'd seen as I fell, the Imp who'd once been under my command, the spells I knew, and even a few new things—other human faces, living faces; a horse with a flaming mane and hooves of fire; a large blue demon, grumbling as he raced into battle; and the burning eyes of a pale-faced, winged figure with sulfur breath and heavy black armor. Now to the forefront came two sensations: the warm, tender embrace of a roaring hearth, and the sickly gray ache of corrupted flesh—my flesh. This flickering flashback went on for a time, until finally I blinked and came back to reality. My two undead companions were watching me intently.

"A name…" I said softly. "Yes. I have one."

"What is it?" Mitexi squeaked eagerly.

I rose to my full height. This was a powerful moment for me, and I could feel the energy crackling through every weathered bone, every disintegrated muscle, from my green hair to my spiked toes. The answers I sought would present themselves, in time, but until then, I would embrace my new identity. No longer would I cling to my past life, to the memories I had only snippets of. No longer would I sit and brood over what I had once been.

It was time to truly become _Forsaken_.

"From here forward, I shall be known… as **Blightfire**."


	3. Great Dystress

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 3 – Great Dystress

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: DYSTRESSI

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

"The correct choice is obvious," spat David Trias, his voice dripping with condescension. "If you'd been paying even the slightest bit of attention, you'd know where the stone is." He kept both clawed hands firmly atop the cups on the table. Occasionally he'd drum those grotesque nails against the side of one, making quiet _tink tink_ sounds. "I'm waiting."

I still had no idea how he expected me to complete this stupid challenge. He'd explained it several times, but every piece of advice he offered served only to confuse me further. Use the mind's eye? Trust no one? React faster than time allows? These were nothing but meaningless phrases, uttered to make him sound more sophisticated than his profession would imply. After all, when it came down to it, how hard was it to stab things in the back with daggers?

"That one," I finally answered, pointing at the center cup.

David sighed with a grumble and lifted the mug. There was nothing beneath it. He held up the other two mugs, revealing the pebble under the one on my left. "Again," he muttered wearily, clearly growing impatient.

"By the Void, how many times am I to attempt this ridiculous task?" I screeched, glaring with all my might into his ragged, moldy face. It was hard to glare without actual eyeballs, but I made it work.

"_Until you learn_," David roared, "that being a Rogue requires _discipline_ and _cunning!_"

I shrank back a bit. "Apologies, master."

He made a _tch_ sound and began spinning the cups wildly on the table, just as he'd done a dozen times before. "Now," he growled with malice in his eye orbs, "Remember what I've taught you. _Where is the stone?" _

I thought hard. What was it he'd said earlier? What was he trying to teach me? The cups in front of me glistened in the firelight. Nearby patrons had looked over at us during our spat, and were now busying themselves with any occupation other than trying to eavesdrop on two Rogues, or so I'd seen out of the side of my eye. That was a trick David taught me: how to be watchful. How to catch people doing things they didn't want anyone to see.

"Mix them up again," I requested. "I wasn't looking the last time." He did so, grudgingly. Wait, what was… Oh, David, you clever devil. You sly, sly Rogue.

"Satisfied?" he asked, rolling his eye orbs.

"Greatly." I lashed out like a cobra with my spindly claws and snatched the stone from his chest pocket. "Here it is."

For the first time that evening, David smiled. "At last, you are beginning to understand." He lifted the cups, revealing empty space below all three of them. "It is the essence of the Rogue to notice what others do not. Move faster than time allows, and you will find you can fool just about anyone." I nodded knowingly. "The Shadowstalkers need talented agents… not pickpockets and fools. In time, you will be such an agent."

"Thank you master," I answered with respect.

David rose from the table. "While you did not take to this lesson as quickly as I would've liked, you nonetheless did find the solution. Have the rest of the evening for yourself." He slunk away in his usual manner, disappearing from the room like smoke.

What a grueling day. Three hours of pure combat training in the morning, followed by fieldwork; David and I spent most of the remainder of the day slaying Scourge in the occupied sections of Deathknell. All throughout our fights he'd been leaning over my shoulder, critiquing my technique and insulting my intelligence. A harsh master, perhaps, but fair nonetheless. As I flagged down Venya—cute butt on that one… for a zombie, anyway—and ordered a bowl of Duskbat stew, I recalled the strange way David and I had come into acquaintance.

It'd only been two weeks now since I'd dragged myself out of that creepy crypt up the hill. No memories back then, nothing to indicate who or what I'd been in life save for natural skill with a blade, a signet ring with an eye-shaped symbol, and a strange tattoo on the back of my neck. My first stop was the Chapel, as per instructions from Undertaker Mordo.

"No memories? Hmm. How unusual," Sarvis told me. I felt terrified: what was the matter with me? Why didn't I know who I was? Luckily the amnesia, or at least part of the amnesia, didn't last too long. Within a few hours of going to the Inn to rest, I'd recalled a number of important facts: One, that I was once a gorgeous human from Stormwind with excellent combat prowess and a name ending in I; two, that I was attracted to females; three, that I'd been seeking someone else with a tattoo like mine at the time of my demise, for reasons I was unable to remember; and four, that I needed to get out of this hellhole as fast as I could, because whoever I was looking for probably wasn't here.

"There are a number of specialized trainers in Deathknell," Sarvis informed me once I reported back with my recollections. "As you say you are suited to melee, it sounds like you'd fit in well with either Dannal Stern or David Trias. I leave it to you to decide which path is best."

"What do I need a trainer for?" I demanded.

"Survival," Sarvis said flatly. "You think you'd last five minutes outside the gates of this valley? There are horrors out there far beyond your comprehension." He was talking down to me. I _hated_ that.

"With all due respect, _Father_, I think I can handle myself. Just give me a sword and point me toward the exit."

He narrowed his orbs at me. "Very well. Your choice greatly distresses me, but if that is your wish, so be it." He motioned for his acolyte, and the man produced a sword from some back cabinet. "Shadows guard you," Sarvis chanted, almost to himself, as I saluted and left the building. Great distress. Hm. I liked the ring of that.

Snapping back to reality for a moment, I discovered my bowl of stew had run dry. I decided to head upstairs to retire to my room. Venya, a creature of kindness paralleled only by her beauty, was still letting me stay here for free. I'd have to see about scrounging up some copper to pay her with if I could. David was residing in the room just beside mine, I knew, but his light was out so I decided not to bother him, and instead resumed my reflections.

The memories skipped ahead, to later that same day: me, bleeding black blood on the cold grass, a human in a red and white tabard looming over with mace raised high. Then a flash. Silver in the gray sunlight. A torrent of red, bursting with the force of a geyser, and the man falling, throat open. And there he was: David Trias, helping me to my feet and applying a lightweight wool bandage to my grievous wounds. He guided me back to town, explained that he was the Rogue trainer, and offered me a deal.

"You displayed real talent with that sword earlier, even against a clearly superior foe. I would like to train you, on the conditions that you follow my orders as your master, remain here in Deathknell until _I_ determine you are ready to depart, and do not, under any circumstances, attempt to venture into the territory occupied by the Scarlet Crusade again without my consent. What say you?"

This wasn't adding up. "What do you get out of this deal?" I asked suspiciously. "Sounds to me like I'm making the killing here. What's the catch?"

His broad, counterfeit smile widened, and I sensed he was genuinely pleased now. "Clearly you're already suited to the ways of the Rogue. Suspicion is a powerful defense. Very well, I will come clean: I'm a recruiter here under contract from the Shadowstalkers of the Rogue Quarter in Undercity. For every useful candidate I produce, my benefactors provide me with a very generous monetary compensation package."

"So if I turn out to be a willing sap that'll do as I'm told, you walk away rich?"

Somehow his smile grew even wider. "Exactly."

I considered his offer. It was obvious he had knowledge I could use, and furthermore, it looked like I wasn't getting out of this valley alive without a bit more training and guidance. But to be indebted to the Undercity… was that something I wanted? Well, my options were limited. For now, this was the best thing I had going: I could always sneak out later. I was about to become a Rogue, after all.

I shook his hand and nodded. "It's a deal."

David grinned wickedly at me. "Excellent. Now go steal that man's coinpurse."

And so I arrived back at the present moment, as I slid into bed and blew out the candle. Two weeks of training, and already I was ten times more skilled than I'd been when I—foolishly, I was willing to admit—tried to leave the valley. David commented frequently on my innate abilities. He said I was a prodigy. It was all bullshit, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

My eyes began to grow tired. I wasn't sure how sleep worked for a Forsaken: what purpose did it serve? My brain had nothing to repair, since it was being kept alive by a combination of magic and disease. Oh well. Yet as I started to drift off, my keen ears picked up a very unusual sound in the room next door: Common. Someone was speaking Common.

No one around here spoke Common, except…

In a flash I was on my feet with dagger and sword in hand. I slipped into the shadows, just as David had taught me, and slid silently out of my chambers. The door to his room was slightly ajar. I took a breath.

"Easy Dystressi," I thought. "Remember your training." With the utmost care, I peeked through the crack, fully expecting to see David being roughed up by Scarlet flunkies. Instead, what I found before my eye was nothing short of unbelievable: a Scarlet Crusade member was fraternizing with David in a light, jovial tone. He said something in Common, and they shared a chuckle. Then the pair crept to the window and slipped out noiselessly.

What the hell was this? Was David a spy for the Crusade? Or was he trying to get something from them? I had to know. Taking great care not to disturb anything, I snuck into his bedroom and over to the window. The two of them were already invisible in the near blackness outside—no moon tonight—but I knew where they'd be going. I was about to go after them when I stopped to consider an important fact: my agreement with David forbid me from following. If I got caught, I could face expulsion from his tutorship, and possibly even be made to pay for the time he'd spent on me.

Well, rules were made to be broken.

* * *

The forest was darker than I'd ever seen. I didn't have a visual on my targets yet, but I knew I was nearing the Scarlet camp. I kept to the shadows—there were plenty—and remained out of sight. After several minutes of creeping along, I spotted a light in the black: a Scarlet Initiate was standing guard on the outskirts of the main campsite, holding a torch and shivering from the cold, her eyes occasionally slipping shut for seconds at a time. She was alone. She was clearly sleepy. And she was about to die.

Without a word, I slid up behind her and delivered a ferocious backstab with my dagger, while simultaneously severing her windpipe with my shortsword. The Initiate's corpse slid quietly to the ground. I caught the torch deftly. Now, how to proceed? I studied the body. Yes… this could work. Good thing they always wear red. Bloodstains don't show.

In minutes I was deep in the heart of the camp. I'd pilfered the guard's whole outfit, including her large crimson hood, which conveniently covered my entire face. The ratty tabard slung across me went _swish_ as I strode confidently past dozens of Scarlet tents. At this hour of the night, only a few guards were about: they nodded at me in greeting, and I returned the gesture as I walked. Needed to find… there. The command tent. If my hunch was correct, the man I'd seen with David was none other than Meven Korgal. His face and name were on a wanted poster back in Deathknell.

As I neared the tent, I cast the torch aside and Vanished into the murk. Best to make a quiet entry, and observe. The back of the tent was not fully stitched. Perfect for spying. I peeked inside, and felt my long-stilled heart drop into my boots.

David was clearly not here for any kind of noble purpose, of that much I was immediately certain. He and Meven were sharing a bottle of wine and chatting in Common, laughing frequently. A small golden lockbox rested on the table between them. As I looked on, Meven removed a key from his sleeve and passed it to David. David, in turn, opened the box. The dazzling array of colors inside required no further explanation: those were jewels, and valuable ones at that. He shut it and made a comment to Meven, while simultaneously reaching into his tunic. A document appeared from David's pocket, and Meven perused it carefully. After a time, both of them nodded and shook hands. The deal had been made. Whatever was on that paper was likely not supposed to be in the hands of the Scarlet Crusade, and I could only imagine the damage it might do if it were, say, a list of the guard rotations, or a map depicting a safe route into the town.

What to do? I couldn't take David in combat, and I hadn't a clue how skilled Meven was. Think Dystressi, think! What had I learned that could help me? Oh… oh wait… yes. A plan was forming. I had it!

I maneuvered quickly to the front of the tent, and extracted a small pinch of explosive powder from my thieves' tools. Taking a quick breath, I chucked it at the front of the tent, and raced around to the back. Sure enough, Meven and David had heard the _pop_. Meven was standing now with his sword drawn; I'd managed to distract him. He held up a hand to David, instructing him to wait. This was my chance.

Before that dead heart of mine could beat three times, I'd sliced my way through the weak stitching of the back wall, beamed David across his thick, ugly skull with my sap, and pilfered the box of jewels as evidence. I didn't want to risk a confrontation with Meven, so I stole out of the tent again with all due speed. I was well outside the borders of the camp before the alarms sounded, stripping off the bloody Scarlet outfit as I sprinted. I had to tell someone, and fast. There was no way to know what David would do if he found out I'd been at the scene, but I had a vague idea of the kind of torture he'd gladly inflict to keep me silent. I couldn't leave the valley for help, could I? Only one option remained. I made my way toward the Chapel.

"But Father! I swear it's true!" I pleaded. "I _saw_ it with my own eyes!"

"David is one of our most trusted specialists, Dystressi. Surely you realize the weight of the accusation you're making?" Sarvis countered.

"There you are!" David thundered, suddenly bursting onto the scene. He had a nice red lump on the back of his head, I noticed with a smirk. Everyone in the Chapel spun to watch as he marched up to the pulpit. I could practically feel the rage boiling in his cold bloodstream.

"Master Trias," Sarvis said gravely, "are you aware of what this girl is saying about you?"

"Aye Father, I am. And it's all lies, every word of it!" He pointed at me with a bony finger. "In fact, _she_ is the one who is the spy! Why, this very night I caught her sneaking away to trade valuable information with the Scarlets!"

All eyes turned to me_. "What?"_ I shrieked, my indignation nearly overwhelming. "That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? Look, in her hands! The box she carries!" He motioned toward it. I glanced down, and noticed the symbol of the Crusade embossed in brilliant red on its surface.

Well, shit. He had me there.

"But… but I stole this from you!" I stammered, temporarily losing my argumentative footing. "Tonight! While _you _were trading secrets with the Scarlet commander, Meven Korgal!"

David pointed at me sternly. "More lies! Father, can you not see what's she's doing? She's trying to cover her tracks by accusing me!"

"Think about it," I countered, "If I were really a spy, why the _hell_ would I come back here? Wouldn't I already be on my way out of the city?"

"Enough! I have heard enough!" Sarvis bellowed. "Dystressi, you have been nothing but trouble since you arrived here. Until we get this matter sorted out, I'm placing you into custody." He snapped his fingers in the air. "Deathguards! Seize her!"

Well, being seized was entirely out of the question. I knew that the moment I was left alone in prison, I'd find myself on the business end of a garrote wire, courtesy of my former master. No, this could only end one of two ways: with David Trias in chains, or with my pretty little head on a stake in the courtyard.

And dying the first time was enough for me, thanks.

Faster than the eye could see, I extracted a small amount of blinding powder from my toolkit and blew it in David's face. He staggered around, groaning and clutching at his eye sockets. Damn, a direct hit. I hoped it would keep him busy long enough for me to escape. As he struggled, I quickly smashed a vial of smoke against the floor and Vanished from sight, leaving Sarvis and the other denizens of the Chapel coughing and looking around frantically. I made it to the courtyard before someone spotted me.

"Halt!" Deathguard Saltain jeered. He came at me with his blade drawn. Time to see if those combat lessons would pay off! I dropped the box of jewels, whirled my dagger and sword from their sheathes, and parried his attack. Saltain swung fiercely. Another parry. He tried to bash me with his shield, and I staggered back, taking a small hit from the tip of his blade. I countered his next swing and performed the Gouge technique David had taught me; Saltain wobbled in a daze, granting me a brief window to retrieve the box and slip away. I sprinted at full speed, thankful that I'd had time to cool down a bit during my hike back to the Chapel. I needed as much energy as I could get for my final escape. It was time to get the hell out of Deathknell.

More guards charged from the Chapel and other nearby buildings. Deathstalkers blocked the gates out of the city. I took a quick turn and entered the occupied district. At every juncture, however, I found myself cut off, and it was all I could do to find a clear path. The buildings began to bleed together in the fading light. Soon it was pitch black. I sought refuge in a large structure, hoping to throw them off my trail for a moment. How was I going to escape? There wasn't a way out of the city save through those front gates. No other option: I'd have to fight my way to freedom.

"She went in there!" a gruff voice outside called. I didn't know how they'd managed to track me, but as I heard several pairs of steel boots clunking toward the doorway, I felt my breath catch in my throat. They'd cornered me. Time to make my last stand.

I stuck the lockbox on a shelf beside me; I needed both hands free to do this. "Come and get it!" I yelled as three Deathguards rounded the corner. They lofted their swords, murder in their lifeless eyes.

And froze in place. Literally.

I stared in awe. What was going on? Shards of ice tumbled from the limbs of the immobile guards. Suddenly, a bright flash caught my eyes, and I stumbled, temporarily blinded. When I could see again, I found a most curious creature before me: she was a good head taller than I, with purple skin, hooves for feet, and corkscrew horns surrounded by a crop of messy black hair. Her blue eyes glowed with an inner light. She was dressed in azure robes and a purple tabard adorned with an emblem that, while recognizable, I was unable to name.

"Who… who are you?" I stammered. It was at that moment that I noticed the shattered chunks of the Deathstalkers on the barn floor. This woman, whoever and whatever she was, meant business.

She replied to my question in a weird, alien tongue. When I stared at her in confusion, she tried again, this time in Common. Still nothing. I didn't speak any Common. Her third attempt was more successful: "My name is Spectress. By the Light, what happened to you Cassandri?" Her accent was very… unique. Unplaceable.

I gawked at her, slack-jawed. "Cassandri?" That name… I knew it had once been mine. "You know who I was?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. Her blue eyes widened in surprise as she considered my statement. "Wait… you do not?"

"Do not what?"

"Know who you were? Who you _are?"_ She appeared utterly shocked.

I shook my head. "No. But you can tell me."

"I'm afraid that will have to wait for later," Spectress informed me coldly. "You must come with me. _Now_._"_

I narrowed my orbs at her. "And if I refuse?"

Instantly, I felt my body lock up, as a gigantic block of ice encased me like a python smothering its prey. I could still see moderately well through the glimmering surface; Spectress walked near my prison and began casting a spell. In seconds, a wide portal had appeared at her side. I could see flickering images of golden spires and buildings through it.

"I'm sorry Cassandri. But you don't have a choice." She mumbled an incantation, causing the ice block—with me inside—to float lazily about three inches off the floor. With a gentle push, she sent me gliding into the portal, and off to lands unknown. The last image I caught before blacking out was the symbol on her tabard. It'd been so familiar when she came in… wait… yes, I remembered now.

It was the Violet Eye, emblem of the Kirin Tor. The same symbol etched into the signet ring now frozen to my left index finger.


	4. Triash

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 4 – Triash

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: BLIGHTFIRE

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

I strode out of the Chapel with unshakeable confidence that evening. There was plenty for me to be happy about: A mission completed successfully, in every sense of the term; a new friend in Mitexi, who'd promised to meet me tomorrow and introduce me to Maximillion; and a name. Most of all a name. I hadn't felt like a real person until that moment, when I announced my title to Sarvis and the rest of the Chapel's attendants. Having a name gave me something to attach myself to. I could identify with it. Live through it. Become it.

Blightfire. So chosen because of those two ever-prominent sensations in my mind: heat and sickness. Though I could not detect warmth on my frigid, reanimated skin, my body still remembered the feeling. And though I encountered no pain or discomfort from the simple act of being inside this decaying carcass, I could recall pieces of a horrific conversion process, the agony of which had left a permanent scar on my soul. My chosen name reflected these two fleeting dreams. Blightfire. Thinking it made me feel whole again.

My next move, so Sarvis told me, should be to sleep the night and commence training first thing tomorrow. I had a long road ahead. He gave me his word that Venya would have a room for me at the Inn, and so she did. But there was something I had to do first.

"David Trias?" I asked the empty common room. "Are you-"

"Here?" David purred in a silky, sinister voice. He was standing right behind me.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Apologies. Bad habit." We took a seat at a table, and I produced the box from my travel pack. It rattled as I moved it.

"This is what you wanted me to find, isn't it?" I didn't need to hear his answer to know it was the correct artifact; the ravenous look in his eyes told me everything.

David was practically drooling. "_Excellent_ work Blightfire." He reached out to take the box.

I pulled back a bit and covered it with my arms. "Not so fast. Some of that information, if you please. As a gesture of good faith." Never trust a Rogue, right?

David grinned wickedly at me. "Ah, yes, I suppose that would be wise. Too bad you've chosen the path of the Warlock… your keen sense of suspicion would likely make you a fine Rogue." He straightened up a bit and gesticulated as he explained: "As I told you, Dystressi is a female Rogue, about your age and build. She came down from the crypt with amnesia, same as you, as well as a tattoo identical to yours on the back of her neck. She also had a signet ring, but the symbol was not one I knew. Do you possess such a ring?"

I shook my head. "If I did, it has been lost since my demise."

"I see," David continued, "well, at any rate, she was quite an adept pupil, and took to each lesson with speed and skill unlike anything I've ever seen. She was doing in five days what it can take a new recruit six months to learn."

"Mmhm," I said with a nod.

"Unfortunately, she had a dark side as well, as many Rogues do." Was that a wink he just gave me? "A few nights ago, she broke into my private room and stole that lockbox you're now holding. She was going to trade it to members of the Scarlet Crusade-"

"The who?"

David smiled with sweet menace in his eyes. "Enemies of the Forsaken. They control territory to the southeast. Anyway, she'd been making deals with the Scarlets for some time, and was going to exchange that box for amnesty and a position within their organization, or so I believe."

I nodded again. This Dystressi, whoever she was and however she and I were connected, seemed like trouble. "What's in the box anyway?" I asked.

"I'll show you." David pointed at the lockbox and beckoned with two fingers. I carefully slid it forward; in a flash he produced a key and popped the lid open. I gasped. Such gorgeous gemstones!

"Oh my," I said, enraptured. "Yes, I can see why they'd want this."

He shut it again and continued: "Needless to say, I caught her before she could make the deal. Although she was many times my inferior in practice and training, she managed to escape from me, and fled into the occupied district. The Deathguards who went after her did not return, and the lockbox disappeared with her. I do not know where she has gone. I can only assume she escaped the valley."

Something didn't add up. "But how did you know she didn't take the box?"

There was that smile again. "Well… I didn't know for sure. But I've been keeping a close eye on the Scarlets the last few days, and the box never materialized. I would've started searching for it myself, but then you showed up."

"Ah, I see," I said. "A willing lackey to do your dirty work for you."

"Come now Blightfire," David scolded playfully. "It was a deal freely made! I had something you wanted, and you offered something I wanted. We both benefitted."

This, I had to admit, was true. "Fair enough David." I began to rise, then halted. "Can you tell me anything else about Dystressi?"

David shook his head, and replied, "Only this: she was looking for others with the tattoo like hers. You may be the only one… or you may not. I don't know. But she is a force to be reckoned with, Blightfire. If you do encounter her, do not underestimate her cunning."

I performed the Forsaken salute, thanked David for his time, and retired to my room. All this new information was making my head spin. Who or what was the Scarlet Crusade, and why were they so dangerous? Moreover, was Dystressi really a traitor to the Forsaken? Why? And what loyalties did she truly hold? What was our connection? Many unanswered questions to add to my growing list of wonderings. Still, nothing that couldn't wait for morning. I fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, I met Mitexi for breakfast outside the Inn. She'd managed to acquire some surprisingly tasty cave mold for us to eat, washed down with refreshing spring water. Her excitement overshadowed my own: clearly she was eager to show me off to Maximillion. I wondered if perhaps the novelty of another Warlock was what drew her to me… but that was negative thinking at its finest. Her friendship was genuine. I had no reason to believe otherwise.

We made our way to the cemetery behind the Chapel. It wasn't much to look at: just a few moss-covered stones and some open graves. The air was cool and smelt of pine. I wondered why Maximillion was not welcome inside the Chapel with the other magic trainers. This question, at least, would soon have an answer.

Maximillion was a green-haired Forsaken with shifty eye orbs and a partially broken jaw. His bony shoulders stuck out of his red robes like fins on the back of a shark. He wielded a ramshackle staff held together with twine bindings. I was, admittedly, not very impressed upon first meeting him. But I put on my best face and performed a firm Forsaken salute, which he returned.

"This is her, master," Mixtexi gushed. "This is the one I was telling you about! Meet _Blightfire_!" She was giddy with excitement.

"A pleasure," I said cordially.

"So, you fancy yourself a Warlock, do you?" he rattled, his voice creaky. He looked me up and down, taking in my features. "Yes… I can sense it. You have the innate gifts needed for the role. But do you have the will? The lust for power?"

"The… lust?" I asked warily.

Maximillion seemed to ignore my question, and instead began a speech: "An awful predicament we find ourselves in, isn't it Blightfire? Plagued by the Foul Prince. Ostracized and spurned by our loved ones. We finally have our own will thanks to the beautiful Sylvanas, but what does that afford us now? Slaves to a different master is still a slave, or so I say."

I raised an eyebrow. "Um, what-"

"But what if _we_ were the masters? Yes, you know what I mean, don't you?" He tilted his head at me meaningfully. "It is that type of control—that type of power—that drives us. We seek to have creatures serve _us_."

Much to my surprise, I… agreed with him. I _did_ want that kind of power. Though I knew not from whence the feeling came, I could sense it churning inside me: that desire to rule. To command. To _control_. "Yes… yes I see," I mumbled.

He gave Mitexi a nod. "We Warlocks know we are more powerful and deserve more respect than others give us… and so now we look to take it."

"Aye," Mitexi agreed. I spotted a calculating gleam in her eye. So she _did_ have a dark side after all. How interesting.

Maximillion held out a decrepit hand. "If you wish to pursue this path, Blightfire, then consider me an ally in the struggle—the struggle for our own freedom. The freedom to seek our own allegiances. I will teach you all I know, in return for your temporary loyalty to me as your master."

I mulled this over. On the one hand, it was evident I was a Warlock, through and through. Those spells I'd used to save Mitexi were still at the back of my mind, just waiting to be pulled out again. No other path would suit me. And it was certainly true that, until I had a clearer picture of what I'd been up to when I was alive, I was stuck down here at the bottom of the Forsaken food chain. On the other hand, I didn't want to get into something I couldn't get out of. I valued my independence, limited though it was, and signing up for training seemed very much counter to my goals. But hell, once again I had to remind myself of an obvious fact: what else was I going to do?

I shook his bony fingers, bowing slightly as I did so. "I shall obey your commands, master."

Maximillion smiled widely. "Excellent. Most excellent. Welcome to the Dark Coven, Blightfire. We shall begin your training immediately."

Mitexi had informed Maximillion of my existing powers, but he wanted to see for himself, so our first order of business was some basic displays of aptitude. There was an enchanted dummy in the cemetery for exactly this purpose. I showed him Shadow Bolt, Immolate, and Conflagrate, as well as Curse of Agony and Corruption. After watching Mitexi and me take turns casting spells for a while, Maximillion stopped the exercise and pulled me aside.

He spoke in a low voice, saying, "Listen, Blightfire. I will be honest with you: your abilities are far beyond Mitexi's. Are you certain you did not have any prior training?"

I shrugged, trying not to look too pleased with myself after hearing his compliment. "I cannot say for sure. I don't remember what I did when I was alive."

"There's no way you were anything but a Warlock before now. You have a mastery of techniques that most among our class take years to achieve."

I beamed. "Thank you, master."

"However," he continued, almost hesitantly, "while it is clear you are ready to learn your first demonic summoning ritual—assuming you don't already know it—I'm afraid I cannot bring myself to deal such a blow to my other loyal student, Mitexi."

"Oh?" I cocked my head at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mitexi has been working with me for over a month now. Although her casting speed is excellent and her drive to learn is strong, she simply does not yet possess the necessary level of finesse to control a demon, even one as small as an imp."

I nodded, and replied tactfully, "I understand. When can I learn this spell, then?"

"Oh, very soon. I don't mean to keep it from you for long. But imagine how she'd feel if you got to do it on your first day, when she's been trying for weeks? It would crush her."

This didn't sit well with me. Yes, I didn't want to alienate my new friend—my only friend—but would she be the barrier to my progress? I was clearly the superior Warlock. Why should I let her hold me back? Oh well. No other choice. I grumbled an agreement and returned to the drills.

We spent the rest of the morning sparring and attacking the dummy. Maximillion guided my tactics, coaching me on the best order in which to use my spells, and how to make the most of their limited durations. After a break for lunch, Mitexi and I ventured out into the occupied district to slay some Scourge. It was very enjoyable, I must say. We returned to Deathknell that evening, our bags bulging with pilfered supplies and various knick-knacks looted off the mindless undead. Mitexi lived in a small apartment next to the Inn; to celebrate our first day out, she invited me over for a drink.

"Cheers!" she cried gaily, clinking her glass against mine. We guzzled the first round and pulled another. The wine felt strange against my throat, but the buzz was a welcome respite from my nagging thoughts, and I gladly gulped down a second cupful. The room began to tilt very minutely to the left.

"Sho Mitexi," I said. "What'sh it like living here in Deathknell?"

"Oh, it'sh not sho bad!" she answered hazily. "I like it, usually… hic!" She giggled. "But shometimes it's hard, you know? Being alone."

"Yeah."

"Like, it'sh not sho bad when I'm out training, but when I'm here at night, I jusht… I remember them. My kids. My hushband." She laughed out loud. "Ha! I said 'hush' band!"

I chuckled, for her sake. Maybe I needed another one before that would be funny. I remedied the problem, and increased the tilt of the room by a few more degrees. "Any good town gosship I should know about? …hic!"

Mitexi nodded, her thick black hair bobbing wildly. "Oh yesh. Plenty of gossip here, even among us Forshaken." She leaned in closer. I could smell the wine on her breath, along with a variety of molds and other decaying items. "For example, Kayla Shmithe… who hasn't that Warlock shlept with?"

I laughed at this. Good, I'd had enough now. "Yeah? The girl with the imp in the Chapel?"

"Yesh! She's a huge shlut." Mitexi polished off the remainder of the bottle. "You want another glassh? …hic!" She was in the midst of opening a second Pinot Noir.

"No, that's okay. Thish should be fine for me," I told her, already beginning to think about heading home. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, nor was I entirely comfortable being around Mitexi yet. I needed time to reach that point.

"I mean, I realize how much work it is for us Forshaken to… you know… but even sho, plenty of guysh are happy to take a ride when it'sh offered. Joshua Kien's done her, Deathguard Philip'sh done her, Archibald Kava had her at the Inn…" She laughed to herself. "I mean shit, one time I caught David Triash fingering her behind the shtables!"

I spat out a burst of the water I was drinking, causing Mitexi to laugh uproariously. "Sheriously?" I finally managed to say with a grin, sobering slightly at the mention of David. My, did that man get around! He seemed to have his hand in everything here, pun fully intended.

Mitexi giggled again. "Of coursh, I'm not without my own… _indishcretions_." She winked an eye orb at me.

I laughed. "Who've you shacked up with, Mitexi?"

A sly smile. "Oh, I don't know if we're closhe enough friendsh for that yet!"

"Very well," I answered with a grin.

Mitexi lowered her voice to a conspiratory whisper. "Shpeaking of David Triash… I do have another piece of newsh about him… hic!"

I perked up. "Yes?"

She leaned even closer. Now she was practically licking my ear. "I heard that the girl he wash training, Dyshtresshi, washn't really a shpy." She hiccupped. "I heard… that David Triash… hic! I heard that _he_ wash the shpy!" Her slurring was getting worse. I could see why: she'd chugged half the bottle of Pinot when I wasn't looking earlier. Sheesh.

"Really?" I asked, surprise clearly printed on my face. "Who told you that? And how do they know?"

"Caretaker Caice. He shed he shaw David and shome Shcarlets talking… hic! And shwapping papersh or shomething… hic!" Mitexi began to sway back and forth like a ship at sea. "Oh, wowie… I may have had a bit too much wine…"

Much to my dismay, I very soon discovered that Forsaken are still vulnerable to the effects of high alcohol consumption. As I helped Mitexi to the sink and held her hair back so she could continue vomiting, I pondered the information she'd so freely provided me. David Trias, a spy for the Scarlet Crusade? That would mean he lied to me about Dystressi. It would also mean he was the true traitor, and if word were to get out, he'd be strung up from the nearest durable tree branch in a heartbeat.

Dystressi was becoming more of an enigma with each passing moment. If David lied about her, then perhaps she'd been trying to expose him, and he'd run her out of town. Regardless of why, I knew two things for sure: one, that I wanted to find this girl, if for no other reason than because she might know something about who I was; and two, that I was going to speak to Caretaker Caice first thing tomorrow. Mitexi would be in no condition to train in the morning anyway.

She wasn't. I went back to check at daybreak, and found her still out cold in her bed, where I'd left her. I reported this fact to Maximillion, and he granted me a few hours for myself while she got her rest. I immediately began scouring the town, searching high and low for Caice. I'd never met him before, so I asked everyone I could see. Eventually, Deathguard Oliver informed me of Caice's whereabouts.

I trekked back up the hill toward the Crypt—shivering a little at the memory of my awakening there just a couple days prior—but this time hung a left, and found myself standing before a shriveled old Forsaken man. He was shorter than me, with several prominent teeth missing, wrinkled gray skin, and a few hideous tufts of dirty yellow hair bursting from the sides of his skull. His weathered fingers clutched a glowing lantern.

"My bones are weak," he began, his voice dry as a dusty tomb, "my eyes see only darkness, and my body feels only pain; but these things are good because my will is my own."

"Uh…" I said. "I'm Blightfire."

He looked me up and down. "Eh? And what do you want?"

I decided to jump right into it. "I'm here to gather information about David Trias."

Caice studied me carefully. "David Trias?"

"Yes, the Rogue trainer from Deathknell? I was told you'd seen him," I lowered my voice, "consorting with Scarlet Crusade agents."

"Oh! Eh… I may have seen that, yes. I may have not."

I was growing a bit impatient. "Look, do you have information to share, or are you going to keep spouting nonsense?"

Caice's gaze drifted vaguely to the side, as if he were reminiscing. "Your undeath is not the end of your life, but the beginning. It is up to you to decide where your fate lies now."

I gawked at him. "Pardon?"

Suddenly he leaned in, very close, close enough that I could smell mildew and liquor on his breath. "Five nights ago, I saw David Trias leaving the Inn in the company of Scarlet Messenger Meven Korgal." He rocked back again, smiling crookedly.

"Thank you," I told him. "I appreciate your help."

"Terror, darkness, power? The Forsaken crave not these things; the Forsaken _are_ these things." He burst into a cackle, and didn't stop even as I backed away, turned on my heel, and hurried to town. What a curious man. Batshit insane, yes, but perhaps by choice rather than circumstance.

This new piece of information was simultaneously helpful and crippling. So David Trias was engaging in some kind of enterprise with the Scarlets. Was he trading Deathknell's secrets with them? Or was he wrapped up in a larger scheme, one that would ultimately bring about their downfall? I couldn't be sure, and until I was, my options were limited. It was then that something caught my eye: a large Wanted poster tacked to the wall of the general store.

I perused its text with interest. "Wanted Dead or Alive: Meven Korgal. Messenger for the Scarlet Crusade encampment in the northeastern valley. Has slain countless fresh Forsaken recruits, and several Deathguards. Reward offered. Contact Deathguard Saltain." There was a sketched portrait as well, showing a well-built man with large chops and an angry glare. I studied this a moment. Yes… an idea was forming. A wild idea… and it just might be crazy enough to work.


	5. Blood of the Scarlets

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 5 – Blood of the Scarlets

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: BLIGHTFIRE

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

In a flash I was behind the Chapel, pleading with Maximillion. "This is the perfect opportunity!" I cried. "She's out cold! She won't be up for hours!"

"But Blightfire, what if she-"

"Oh, so what? Master, you said yourself that I'm the better Warlock. Please, teach me the summoning ritual."

He sighed. "Very well. I will teach you. Come." He led me out of the cemetery, to a small glade a short distance through the trees behind the Chapel. "I will show you how to prepare the summoning circle. After we bind an imp to you, you'll be able to summon him without going through all this preparation. But it's necessary the first time."

Maximillion showed me how to draw the required design. It was a complex ring, filled with crosshatches and other symbols that looked only vaguely familiar. After a time, he asked me to stand in the center, and gave me a few Demonic phrases to memorize. I repeated them over and over until I knew them.

"Is it time?" I asked eagerly.

He nodded wearily. "It is time. Summon the demon, and bind his will to yours. I will be nearby, should you require aid, but from here forward, you're on your own."

I closed my eyes and began the chant. Beneath the lids, or whatever dark magic granted me sight, I could sense a purple glow; looking down briefly, I saw the ring at my feet light up with violet beams, bright and steady. I continued the ritual, moving my hands as Maximillion had shown me. It seemed… easy. Second nature. Like I'd done it a thousand times before. In seconds I could sense the portal to the realm of demons opening, and an imp began to feel the tug of my spell. I could see him in my mind's eye; he kicked and screamed.

"Oh no you don't," I whispered. The pull increased. The imp was dragged through the portal, and into our world. Now, the final piece of the task: binding. Seizing control. I opened my eyes and thrust my clawed hand outward. With a careful gesture and some muttered words, I locked the imp's fate. He was mine to command. I snapped my fingers—just for effect—and he appeared in a puff of fire.

"Whoa! What a ride!" he chirped.

"Demon. You are my servant now," I bellowed as authoritatively as I could.

The Imp shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. Same old same old. I've been down this road before."

I lowered my hand. The glow left the circle, and beneath my toes the dirt rolled over itself, washing away the symbols. "What?"

The Imp looked at me. "Name's Quznam. I've been servant to a Warlock before, girly-girl. Might've even been you, in fact." He stared at me carefully. "Nope, maybe not. You're a lot more dead than I remember."

This was a very exciting piece of news. "Quznam, your former master-"

"Mistress," he corrected me.

Even better. "Your former mistress… what did she look like?"

Quznam put a tiny hand to his tiny chin. "Hm. She was supposedly pretty by human standards. Frankly I didn't see the appeal. About your height… brown skin, black hair, nose pierced like you… had an eyebrow ring, if I remember right." He gazed at me expectantly. "That's all I got."

I felt my black heart skipping beats. "And her name, Quznam. What was her name?"

Now his tone grew curious. "Her name?" He narrowed his eyes at me. "Waitaminute… you're not… are you her?"

I nodded feverishly. I was moments away from a breakthrough. "Yes! Yes Quznam, I am the same woman! Now tell me her name!"

He shot me the coyest little smile I'd ever seen. "Eh… naw. Don't really feel like it."

"…what?"

He continued grinning. "I'm not in the mood. Ask me later."

"…_what?"_ I could feel a heat behind my eyes, like a burning hellfire. This imp was all that stood between me and a critical piece of my past. "_What_?"

Quznam stopped smiling. "Uh… yeah. You heard… me?"

My voice became a furious rumble. "_Eeragh!_ C'mere you little-"

"Yikes!" The Imp bolted off with me in hot pursuit. Damn, that pipsqueak was fast!

"Blightfire!" Maximillion called, his voice growing faint as I dashed away. "Wait!"

I chased Quznam in circles around the forest for a few minutes, tripping over branches and stones. Eventually I grew tired and returned to Maximillion, panting. He was rolling his eyes at me in exasperation.

"Let me give you some free advice," he said. "Well done on the ritual, by the way. Looks like it was no trouble for you at all." Quznam poked his head out from behind a nearby tree; I sent a Shadow Bolt at him, splintering off a large chunk of treebark.

"Yeah?" I gasped.

"Try bargaining with him. Imps _love_ a good game or wager. If you can figure out what he wants or likes, you should be able to get him to talk." Maximillion escorted me back to the cemetery. Quznam had, for the moment, disappeared. I mumbled the enchantment to return him to the Fel, and felt his presence fade from this world. He'd be back soon. I thanked Maximillion properly and requested some time off from training, which he granted.

My next stop was the general store. I pawned the assorted loot I'd gathered from the Scourge yesterday, and used the money to buy myself a slew of upgrades. I picked up a healthy supply of water and cave mold from Joshua Kien and some new clothing from Archibald Kava, taking stock of their attractiveness—or lack thereof—as I did so. Kayla slept with _these_ hideous creeps? She had to be an even bigger whore than Mitexi made it sound like. I waltzed out of the store with empty pockets and a brimming sense of empowerment.

Tattered cloth pants, vest, bracers, gloves, and boots, all in a pleasing shade of black. A short wooden staff clasped to my back, perfect for whacking any enemies that got too close. Top it off with the magical belt I'd found—Archibald informed me that it was a Willow Belt of the Eagle—and you had a sexy force to be reckoned with, if I did say so myself. My outfit complemented my curves quite well. I felt slightly embarrassed that this fact mattered to me… but it did! I couldn't help it! What good would victory over the Scarlet Crusade be if I looked like a complete fashion disaster?

Now geared and ready to rock, I set out for the southeastern corner of the valley. Time to see what these Scarlets were up to. If my plan worked, I'd be accomplishing quite a bit in one fell swoop: eliminate a major threat to Deathknell, claim the reward for Meven's head, and expose David Trias, thereby clearing Dystressi's name. Wherever she was, she'd better be grateful.

Once clear of the occupied district—the Scourge there presented no real challenge anymore, so passage was quick—I summoned Quznam. He appeared before me in a crouch, ready to bolt. "Hold it," I said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

His beady eyes darted around. "You're not?"

"No. I want to make a deal."

That got his attention immediately. "A deal, huh? What kinda deal?" I could see the hunger for excitement written on his face.

"It's simple. I want that name. What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want a lotta things."

I tried again. "What do you want that I can get for you?"

He pondered this a moment. "Where are we now?"

"We're going to assault an encampment of soldiers. The Scarlet Crusade."

That title seemed to ring a bell. "You know," he squeaked, "I have always liked the flavor of self-righteousness." He pointed up the hill, at the Scarlet camp. "You get me some of those guys' hearts and livers, and I'll give you the name."

I shook off my revulsion and quickly agreed. Quznam and I skirted around the outside of the camp, surveying its layout. I could see the command tent in the center, partially hidden by the valley's perpetual gray fog, and plenty of Scarlet troops milling about in various configurations. This wouldn't be as easy as running in, spells blazing. I needed… a distraction.

* * *

"Yoo hoo!" Quznam jeered again. He sprinted away from the camp with a whoop. A gang of initiates charged after him, following him up the hill and around a bend behind some trees. Right into the waiting arms of Blightfire. I unloaded a barrage of Shadow Bolts and Curses. In moments, all five soldiers were on the ground writhing in pain. I finished each one off with an Immolate, burning their skin and sucking the life from them for good. Once they were all dead, I reluctantly fulfilled my end of the bargain, and began hacking organs free of their fleshy prisons. None of the guards were wearing anything useful, so I cut through the clothes and extracted the juicy bits inside.

As I worked, I felt a very weird sensation: hunger. Those intestines looked… delicious. Maybe just a little nibble wouldn't hurt. I cautiously took a bite, and practically fell over. Such flavor! I hadn't had something this good since I died! Sure, the fungus was okay, and Venya's stew was about as tasty as it could be, but _this_… this was like a teeny, bloody orgasm in my mouth. It was literally unbelievable. I plunged my head voraciously into the body in front of me and began cannibalizing. Bone, blood, flesh, organ… so delightful! Was this another perk of being undead? Most definitely.

After a moment, I grew full, and withdrew. Yum. Quznam was right: self-righteousness was quite scrumptious. I wiped my face on a tabard and continued removing organs, now setting aside a few extra for myself. When this was done, I had Quznam repeat his distraction procedure. This time he joined in the fight, hurling minute fireballs at the backs of the guards while I cooked their skulls with Corruption and Conflagrate. A towering pile of Scarlet corpses now lay at my feet. Time for phase two.

Quznam and I charged down the hill into the camp. He held off a guard while I dealt with two more. Curse of Agony, Immolate, Corruption, Shadow Bolt. Just like Maximillion had taught me. The guards proved no match for my skill, and in minutes we'd annihilated all comers. The only thing that remained was the command tent. I strode up to it and prepared to throw open the flap.

_Sching!_ A sword blade nearly took my hand off. I leapt backward, and just in time too: a shield pummeled the air where I'd just been standing. Meven Korgal charged out and collided with me, sending me tumbling backward with a cry. He yelled something in a language I didn't know. I rolled sideways, right out of the path of his sword, and was on my feet again quickly. But no sooner had I started to rattle off a string of curses—spells, not obscenities—then he was in my face, trying fervently to clunk me with the shield again. I managed to nail him with a Curse of Agony. He seemed to be… resisting it! He wasn't screaming out in pain like the others had!

Quznam entered the fray, jabbering in Demonic and launching a stream of fireballs. This act pulled Meven off me, opening a brief window to cast my full rotation of spells; Immolate, sending fire up his legs and igniting his tabard; Curse of Agony again, so it would last longer; Corruption, causing his skin to crawl with flesh-eating magic; and a Shadow Bolt to top it off. He deflected the bolt with his shield. Bastard.

"Ouch!" I yelped. A solid hit. I felt black blood rush from my torso, down into my cleavage and across my belly. The pain quickly faded as my body sent a surge of chemicals to the wound to numb it. I let out a primal scream and began casting Shadow Bolt after Shadow bolt, letting my arms and hands twirl like pinwheels. Meven was looking pretty beat up: large wounds appeared on his arms, legs, and chest as my curses and spells did their work, and he cried out in his foreign tongue, perhaps for help. But there was no one to save him now.

With a final howl of anger and triumph, I let loose a powerful Shadow Bolt. The cackling skull at its head flew true, straight into Meven's chest. He grunted, doubled over, and collapsed. I'd won. I'd won!

"We did it!" I cheered at Quznam. He let out an exuberant huzzah. "Now let's claim our spoils." I entered the command tent and quickly scanned the area. Important-looking documents, written partially in Common and partially in whatever language I could read and speak: seized. Magical bracers: swiped. Box of jewels similar to the one I'd recovered for David: acquired. I scouted around a bit more, but the sound of chain boots in the distance cut my exploration short. Time to go. "Quznam, let's get the hell out of here." We left the tent—I was sure to quickly remove Meven's head from his body as proof of my deed before we took off—and fled into the forest. The camp was far behind us within minutes. I doubled back and returned to Deathknell, just as the sky began to glow red from the setting sun.

The fading light trickled down like blood. I dismissed Quznam, then marched up to Deathguard Saltain and lofted the head. "You been looking for this guy?" I asked smartly.

Saltain chuckled. "Yeah, you bet I have. Toss the bastard's ugly skull over there. I'll deal with it later, but first," he slid a coinpurse off his belt, "here. The promised reward." I saluted him and headed for my second destination, the Chapel.

"Father Sarvis," I called as I walked in. He looked up.

"Blightfire. What news have you?"

I walked up beside him. "Might I speak to you a moment, in private?" I gestured toward the door. "It's a delicate matter."

"I see," Sarvis replied. "Come, then." We moved quickly out of the church, and stood on the dead grass before it. I produced the documents and the jewel box from my satchel. They glowed crimson in the evening light.

Dropping my voice to a whisper, I said. "Father Sarvis, I have significant evidence to suggest that David Trias, the Rogue trainer, is in fact a spy for the Scarlet Crusade, and has been trading secrets with them for some time now."

Sarvis looked… utterly disinterested. What was this? Did he already know what I was about to tell him? "I have heard this story once in the last couple days, Blightfire. I do not wish to hear it again."

I shook my head urgently. "No Father, listen. I know Dystressi tried to warn you, but she didn't have what I have. Look for yourself." I passed him the documents.

He studied them a moment. Ah, yes. _There_ was the expression I'd been waiting for. "Why, that's-"

"David's seal, in wax. Yes. And what's more, I have this." I showed him the box. "Two days ago, David asked me to recover a case just like this one from the occupied district. He said Dystressi had stolen it from him. But I found this identical one in the Scarlet camp! This must be what he's been getting from them: boxes of gems."

Sarvis sighed. "I believe you, Blightfire. I only wish I'd listened to Dystressi when she came to me the other night." He rolled his shoulders. "Well, the remaining course of action is obvious. We must bring David Trias into custody. The blood on his hands-"

_Thump_. My world went dark and fuzzy. I could vaguely sense motion and sound at my side, where Sarvis was, but my vision was little more than blurry shapes and colors, with echoing notes throughout. I tried to focus. Nothing doing: my mind was like syrup, and although I could feel my body standing, I was unable to hold myself up willingly. What was going on? I let out a grunt. A bit of drool left my mouth.

Then, as quickly as it'd come, the feeling dissipated, leaving me standing beside the ravaged, bloody corpse of Shadow Priest Sarvis. I spotted David fleeing toward the gates. He had the papers in hand.

"Stop him!" I screamed at the Deathguards. "He killed Sarvis!" My feet were already moving beneath me as I gave chase. David was frighteningly fast—even at my top speed, his sprint was easily keeping him far ahead. Still, I was able to get a bead on David's trajectory: he was headed for the Scarlet camp. I fell into line with a couple of Deathguards—David had killed at least one on his way out of the town—and we all continued the chase, right up to the edge of the camp.

"Farewell, zombies!" David hollered. He was standing beside a wavering crimson portal. "The Scarlet Crusade has offered me a better life than the one I'll find in this rat's nest!" Then he was gone, and the Deathguards and I were charging into battle with cries of vengeance on our lips, but already the Scarlet Mage had stepped swiftly into the portal, causing it to shut behind her like a candle going out in the wind. We were too late. David had escaped.

After helping the Deathguards rout the remainder of the Scarlets and burn their tents, I dragged my weary bones back to town. Sarvis's body had been relocated, though to where I did not know. All that remained was a pool of dark liquid on the ground where he'd fallen. I stared at it with growing unease in my heart. So maybe I'd singlehandedly eliminated Deathknell's second largest threat, after the Scourge. So maybe I'd exposed a vicious criminal as the traitor and murderer he was. What did it matter? Lives had been lost—lost again, as it were—and I couldn't help but feel that I was partly responsible.

I knelt beside the puddle of black. The light around me was now the exact color of the blood that once used to pump through my veins. I remained this way, still, quiet, even as Mitexi stepped up from some unseen corner and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay Blight?" Mitexi asked worriedly.

I allowed another sigh to escape my lips. "Yeah… I'm okay."

"C'mon into the Chapel," she told me calmly. "Dark Cleric Duesten—well, I guess he's Father Duesten now—wants to speak with you." I followed her in. Duesten was standing before the pulpit, looking concerned. Beside him stood Deathguard Saltain and another armored Forsaken whom I had not seen before.

"Blightfire," the unknown man said, his tone authoritative. "I am Executor Arren, warden of Deathknell. You have performed admirably today. Thanks to your efforts, the Scarlet Crusade presence in this area has been entirely wiped out."

I nodded gratefully. "What will happen to Sarvis?"

Duesten cleared his throat. "He… he requested that he not be resurrected. His final will states that he wanted his next death to be his last. So, he will be buried in the graveyard out back, just as he wished. I am now acting Shadow Priest of Deathknell."

"Uh huh. What about David?"

Deathguard Saltain spoke up next. "Word of David's betrayal has already been sent by courier to Undercity." His tone became grim. "The Shadowstalkers will see to it that he is brought to justice. You need not trouble yourself with it further."

Straightening up, Duesten continued, "As a reward for your courage and tenacity, it is the opinion of Arren, Saltain, and myself that you be given a few items from the town's treasury. I have taken the liberty of locating some things for you while you were off chasing David. They can be found in your room at the Inn—which, by the way, will be free from here forward."

I bowed courteously. "Thank you."

"Have you anything further to bring to our attention?" Arren asked.

I shook my head. "No sir. I have had quite enough adventure for today, thanks."

The three of them smiled benevolently at me. "Go then. Get some rest." I performed the Forsaken salute, which they returned, and left the Chapel with Mitexi beside me. My feet hurt.

"So… sounds like you've had a busy day," Mitexi said amicably. "Bet you wanna get some sleep now huh?"

"I'd like that, yes," I groaned wearily. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She smiled. "You bet. Goodnight." We parted ways, and within minutes I was in my room, sleep dragging my eyelids down like weights. I paused briefly to admire the gear I'd been gifted—a beautiful robe, a gemmed staff, and a pair of new boots, all magical—but even that did not seem enough to keep me awake now. I slid my travel pack off my hips and… wait. What was in there that sounded so squishy?

I opened it up. A couple of Scarlet hearts tumbled out, smearing red on the floor. Oh yeah. Quznam.

"Bout time!" he squawked when I summoned him. "I thought you'd forgotten our deal!"

I shrugged. "Truth be told, Quznam, I almost did."

"Well, glad you didn't." He began ravenously chomping the organs I'd gathered for him. "Oh yeah, this is quality stuff. Mmm!"

I took a seat on the bed and watched him eat for a while, saying nothing. I was too tired to even care about my past anymore. After a time, he'd polished off all the hearts and livers. "Okay girly-girl. As promised, I'll tell you your old name."

"I dunno Quznam, maybe I should wait until morn-"

"Silina."

I froze. Something… was happening. I felt the world bending around me, as though time and space were slipping away and leaving me behind. The room began to stretch, walls wobbling like rubber, the floor running a thousand miles into the distance… I squeezed my eyes shut, but even behind them I could see everything spiraling, spinning, pulling me down, pulling me in, taking me to an entirely different place, a different life. Silina. The name rang in my ears like a church bell. Silina.

Silina.

Silina.

Silina.

"-ina. Silina. Silina. _Silina!"_

"Huh?" I shook my head. Where was I? _Who_ was I?

"Silina, you still got a brain in yer skull?" a very stern-looking male dwarf shouted, waving his gauntleted hands in my face. "Don't just stand there, _kill somethin'!"_

"Oh!" I yelped, quickly looking around. I found myself on a windswept, rocky plain. The earth below was hard and rusty, and above glistened a thousand stars, with bands of color streaking across the sky like rivers. Two moons—Azeroth only has one moon, I recalled—shimmered like suns overhead. There were sounds of combat coming at me from every direction: screams, roars, the clash of steel against steel, steel against flesh, the crackle of spells. Dozens upon dozens of dwarves, humans, and other weird humanoids I could not name were locked in conflict with red-skinned… orcs? Was that the word? But orcs have green skin, so these couldn't be orcs. Or could they?

What the hell was happening? Where in Azeroth was I, if I was even on Azeroth anymore? I briefly put my hands to my face, feeling smooth, unblemished skin beneath my declawed fingertips. My palm caught against the silver ring over my left eye. Despite the chaos all around me, one thing was for certain: though I had no idea how it'd come to pass, somehow… I was _alive _again.

I wasn't going to be for long, though. The dwarf turned to run off, and found himself on the business end of an orcish axe. He went flying, blood spraying from his severed neck. The orc locked his furious eyes on me, let out a snarl, and charged. Not good. Definitely not good.


	6. Violet Holdings

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 6 – Violet Holdings

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: DYSTRESSI

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

I awoke in a cell, which was, surprisingly, neither cramped nor stinking. There were no bars or windows; I was being held behind a sparkling purple wall of energy, through which I could see nothing. I looked around. Standard issue cot, small but oddly clean toilet, no other markings. This little room seemed… unused. Perhaps I was its first inhabitant? I found that strange, but then, the whole situation was peculiar to a high degree.

I took stock of what I had to work with. They'd dressed me in plain clothing—no combat gear, just itchy pants and a thin white shirt—and given me no weapons or other tools. Although the lockpick I'd stitched into the lining of my armor was, obviously, still in said armor, I had the other lockpick I'd been keeping in my arm bone. A strange location, to be sure, but I'd discovered that having an exposed humerus did come in handy: a small piece of the marrow had rotted way, leaving a tiny cavity. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant idea, true, but it beat my other primary option, which was… well, somewhere they weren't likely to search. Not like I was using that particular portion of my anatomy for anything else anyway: I'd never been less interested in sex than during my few weeks as a Forsaken. The only person I'd even considered hitting up in Deathknell was Venya, and she didn't seem interested despite numerous passes on my part.

I shook my head. I was getting sidetracked.

The lockpick was useless anyway, I quickly discovered. This wall of force had no tumblers to crack. It was magical, through and through. I paced the length of the room a few times, searching for any other means of prying apart walls or slipping through cracks. Nothing doing. Despite everything David had taught me—I remembered well the prison break training session he'd put me through—I was at a loss. This cell seemed impenetrable. No sooner had I about given up than I discovered a startling fact: standing beside the purple wall caused it to become transparent, allowing me a view of the chamber beyond.

It was a titanic room, done in purple and gold. The area I could see was a rough semicircle, with a stone guardrail on the far side, and a few other violet portals like the one entrapping me situated along the walls. Clearly, this was a jail of some kind, and not just for one or two criminals—a quick look upward revealed dozens more cells at varying heights, some in seemingly impossible-to-reach places. Wherever I was, it was a lot bigger than I'd initially thought, and I was but one of many people being held here.

But _why_ was I being held here? I took a seat on the cot and scoured my memories. Spectress… who was she? I could barely recall anything about her. ButI _could_ remember her, at least a little, and that was important. It meant I'd met her before. Cassandri, she'd called me. Was that my name when I was alive? I assumed as much. So she knew me before whatever happened to me happened, and now she'd come back to… what? Kill me? No, I'd already be dead. Save me? This hardly seemed like a rescue. What had she said? Nothing much. She'd been rather direct about things, and took no nonsense from me when I made a move to flee.

Spectress seemed a dead end for now, so I focused on other details. My signet ring was missing; I assumed it'd been taken as well. What was I doing with a Violet Eye ring? Had I once worked for them? When Spectress took me, she'd been wearing their tabard, and the way she spoke made me think she was acting under higher authority. Along those lines, something else bothered me: how had she located me? If her choice of where to search was just a guess, it was a damn good one. No, there was simply no way she'd found me by luck. She must have known where I was.

Under what circumstances had I left the Kirin Tor, if I'd been working for them? Was it possible they knew where I'd be because I was planning to go there? That seemed rather far-fetched. Infecting myself with the Plague, only to be picked up under sketchy circumstances many weeks later, was too ridiculous to even consider. Perhaps… the ring? Could they track me by it? I found that a likely possibility, since they'd confiscated the ring now that they had me in custody. Their homing beacon was no longer necessary. Well, until I escaped, anyway. I sat for some time, pondering, when suddenly I heard a loud _zoop_ noise from outside my cell.

The magical wall faded away, and before me stood a battalion of soldiers in Kirin Tor garb—tabards, robes, the works. Two human men held guard with armor and pikes at the ready, while a trio of battlemages waited behind them, hands cracking with fire, ice, and arcane energy. Clearly, I was perceived as a rather serious threat. That was good. I could leverage that to my advantage.

"Stand aside," a high, icy female voice ordered. The mages parted to allow passage for… what sort of being was that? I did not recognize her species, though something told me I'd seen it many times before. She had pale, peach skin, like a human, but was gaunt and tall, with excellent curves beneath her violet robes and tabard. Her eyes glowed a creamy blue. She had thin, telescoped ears and tremendous eyebrows, and her straight blonde hair—gorgeous by anyone's standards, including my own—hung in a stylized ponytail behind her perfectly sinister face. Gods, what was the word? I knew this creature! Ulf… no, maybe ent? No… elf? Elf! High elf! I felt slightly relieved by my recollection.

Alongside this powerful woman walked two more figures, one of them familiar, other not. "As you can see," Spectress was saying, "she is quite clearly still undead, even after all this time." The words were in Common, yet I found I could understand them; some part of my memory had been unlocked during my internment. Spectress gestured at me as the three paused on the threshold of my cell.

"Yes," the bearded human beside the high elf said, "the Scourge have certainly had their way with her, haven't they?" His voice was aged, as was his face: I could see wrinkles upon wrinkles, like melting wax. He had a flowing white beard, which accented his regal green robes and the gnarled greatstaff at his back. I could feel a certain… aura about him, as if my concentration were enhanced. As if he were more real than reality itself. Although I could not explain why, I sensed that he was the senior among the three mages now holding the line in front of my prison. "And whatever the Lich King didn't get, the Forsaken took for themselves. There's almost nothing left of her now." He seemed to pity me.

"_Excuse me,_" I said, slightly irritated. "I'm sitting right here, you know."

"You will speak when _spoken to_," the high elf snapped. She raised a glowing glass quarterstaff in her slender hands, and I saw bolts of arcane magic begin to course up and down its length.

"That will do, Kaelana," the man chided. Kaelana growled in protest, but lowered her weapon.

"Cassandri is right, Archmage Nilas," said Spectress, shooting me a subtle, friendly glance. "She is here before us now. Our questions can be answered." They turned expectantly toward me.

I stood. My toenails clicked against the masonry. "Listen, I think you need to answer some questions for _me_, first," I told them sternly, hoping they were interested enough in what they _thought_ I knew—for in reality I knew almost nothing of value to them—to garner their favor.

"Such insolence and disrespect, Cassandri!" Kaelana shrieked. "You forget to whom you are speaking!" She reached for the staff again.

"It's all right, Kaelana. She has clearly been through much these last few weeks." Archmage Nilas turned his eyes to me again. "Cassandri, Spectress tells us that you do not remember who you are or what you were doing when you became… infected?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't."

"Hmm, I see. Your attitude has certainly changed. What did they do to you in that filthy crypt they call a town?"

"Look Archmage, I want to know some things before I'll be sharing much information with you, all right?" I pointed a claw at him, and saw him draw back slightly. Was he… afraid of me? Gods, I hoped so.

Nilas sighed. "I suppose it is only fair. What do you wish to know?"

I began pacing back and forth in the cell, trying my best to think of every possible avenue of inquiry. I needed to get as much out of them as I could while I had their attention. "Okay, my first question: where are we?"

"This is the Violet Hold, in the city of Dalaran," Nilas informed me. "It is a prison for enemies of the Kirin Tor, and those who stand accused as such."

I nodded. "That brings me nicely to my second question: why am I here?"

"You are here-"

"_I think_, Archmage, that it would be better if we did not answer that query," Kaelana interjected. "After all, we need to determine her guilt or innocence, don't we?"

Nilas agreed. "Very well. Have you any other things you wish to know?"

"Yeah," I grumbled, upset that Kaelana had stolen my thunder, "who are you three?" I pointed at Spectress. "And _what_ are you? I don't remember ever seeing a being like you before." Spectress appeared hurt by this remark, and I regretted it immediately, in part because I wished to stay on her good side, and in part because deep inside I felt emotionally connected to her, though why that was I could not say. Archmage Nilas and Kaelana also seemed a bit taken aback at my comment.

Spectress spoke up first. "I am a draenei," she replied quietly. "Spectress the Seeker. I am an assistant mage hunter for the Violet Eye. As you should well know, it is my duty to track down people and objects that the Kirin Tor wishes to locate." She gave Kaelana a look.

The high elf tossed her blonde hair out of her face. "Magistrix Kaelana Starfury. Assistant to Archmage Nilas. Acting High Executor of the Violet Eye's intelligence and observation council, the Seekers. Spectress works for me, and I work for-" She nodded cordially at Nilas.

He gave me a small bow. "Archmage Nilas Arcanister. One of the Six. Successor to Kael'thas Sunstrider."

"Uh huh. Well, since we're making introductions, don't call me Cassandri anymore. I chose a new name, to better complement my… situation." I placed a fist over my heart. "In undeath, I am Dystressi." Nilas appeared unfazed by this news, while Kaelan scowled and Spectress looked even more concerned than before. "Okay, if you won't tell me why I'm being held, can you at least tell me this: how did you find me?"

Kaelana gave Nilas a piercing look, but he ignored it. "Why, the signet ring you were wearing. It led us right to you." He made an _of course_ gesture with his hands. "Took us a while to find you once the Scourge got their claws into you, and then we had to wait for the Forsaken pick you up, but once we realized you weren't headed here willingly—we kept an eye on you via our scryers—we sent a Seeker to bring you back."

"I see," I answered. "How about-"

"Archmage, I really must protest," Kaelana interrupted. "Shouldn't we get on with _our_ questions? Or are we really going to stand here and let some _diseased mercenary_ tell us what to do?"

"Now Kaelana, there's no need to-"

"Archmage Nilas!" a male voice cried. All three of my interrogators and the entire contingent of guards turned, distracted. Fools. Without missing a beat, I took a swift step forward and pilfered the nearest important-looking object I could find: a rolled up scroll sticking out of the pocket of Kaelana's robes. "Apologies, sir, but the Council has requested your presence. They say it is a matter of great urgency!" I finally spotted the speaker—one of those pikeman guards had run up from elsewhere in the Hold.

"Very well," Nilas replied with a sigh. "Kaelana, I trust you can handle things from here?"

"Certainly sir," Kaelana replied. I detected heavy traces of malicious pleasure in her voice. Not a good sign.

"Very well. See if you can obtain the information we discussed, and report back to me in due time." He pinned me beneath his dark eyes for a moment. "Dystressi, we will speak again." Then he turned and followed the guard out. I heard a crackle, and they disappeared in a flash of light.

Spectress and Kaelana now stood facing me. The battalion of guards remained in their places outside the cell. The draenei had an unreadable expression on her face, but I knew what Kaelana's look meant: she was going to enjoy whatever she was about to unleash upon me. Somewhere, far off, a scream rang out.

"Dystressi, is it then?" Kaelana purred, her voice suddenly very mild. She wasn't fooling me: I could sense the claws beneath her gentle mewing. "Just a few questions for you, if I may, and we'll leave you in peace."

"And release me?" I added.

She smiled, showing her teeth. "We'll see. Sit down, please."

Spectress was watching Kaelana warily, I noticed. Did she not trust her mistress? That may also prove a useful fact. So many interesting things to keep track of… I took a seat grudgingly.

Kaelana spoke to me as though reading off a courtroom document. "Two months ago, you were under contract with the Kirin Tor, searching for artifacts we desired and eliminating agents of enemy factions. Do you remember this?" She tapped her foot as she waited for my answer.

"Vaguely," I said. It did seem kind of familiar. I could recall bits and pieces: a flash of paperwork, the Violet Eye seal, a shield and sword in my hands. Someplace dark and warm, like a cave or fortress. Lava.

"One month ago, you disappeared from Dalaran without permission or contractual obligation. It was later discovered that you'd left word with Spectress—you were going to the Plaguelands find your sister. Is this right?"

Sister? Plaguelands? I didn't remember that. "Perhaps."

Her venomous smile widened. "Dystressi, do you remember it or not?"

"No, I don't."

"All right. Can you tell me what happened after that?"

I paused to think. What did she want to hear? What did I actually _know_? "All I can say for sure is that I became infected with the Plague, died, ran around as Scourge for a while, and then became Forsaken. I've been in training the last two weeks."

She nodded. "I see. One more question: where is the Heart?"

"The… Heart?" I stammered, confused.

Kaelana glared at me, no longer smiling. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I really don't."

She pursed her lips until they practically disappeared. "I'm only going to ask you once more: where is _the Heart_?"

"_What _Heart?" I yelled back.

The high elf sighed. "I see." She looked off toward the back of the cell for a moment, and said absentmindedly, "Spectress, you may leave us."

Spectress suppressed a gasp. Her eyes went a little wide. "M-magistrix?"

"You may go. I wish to have a moment with Dystressi… in private."

"I… very well, Magistrix." Spectress bowed and turned to leave. She cast a glance over her shoulder at me. That look was unmistakable: she was afraid to leave me behind.

I swallowed audibly.

Once Spectress had gone, Kaelana snapped her fingers in the air. "Wait for me," she ordered the guards, who grunted various replies of affirmation. With a wave of her hand, the portal behind her slid shut, sealing the prison. It shifted from purple to black, and I assumed that meant we were now hidden from view.

"Kaelana-" I started.

"I wasn't sure I believed Spectress when she first said you'd lost your memories," Kaelana began, "but I'm almost certain I believe it now. You're not nearly as afraid of me as you once were." She grinned wickedly at me. "We're about to fix that."

In seconds I was in the air, rocketing like a boulder from a catapult, as bolts of arcane energy exploded against my chest. I hit the far wall with a thud and slid to the ground. A groan escaped my lips involuntarily; I couldn't breathe very well. Before I could recover she'd raised me to my feet with some sort of telekinesis, and was lifting me into the air. I hurtled the other direction, right into the force field. My shoulder took the brunt of the blow. I crumpled on the floor, sputtering and crying out in pain.

"As if it weren't bad enough," Kaelana thundered angrily, "you running off with the Heart, then you had to go and get yourself fucking _plagued_, didn't you? Why couldn't you have had the good sense to die all the way, and save everyone a lot of trouble?"

"Errghh," I moaned. "Don't… know about… Heart…"

"Like hell you don't, you filthy, thieving _whore_!" she screamed. I felt her staff hit me in the stomach. I coughed up some black blood, and began to see spots before my eyes. "Cassandri, Dystressi, whatever your name is, _I want that Heart back!_"

"F-f-f-f-" I tried to reply. She picked me up again and spun me like a leaf in the wind. I hit one wall, then another. Halfway through my third crossing, she blasted me with an arcane barrage, and I screamed as it pinned me to the floor. I was bleeding heavily from concussive wounds on my torso now. The world began to grow fuzzy.

Kaelana strode up to me. "You listen to me and you listen good, _undead_." She said the word as if the very acting of uttering it disgusted her. "The _only_ reason you are still alive is because I know you had the Heart when you left Dalaran. If you don't remember where it is, then you are of no use to me. So start _thinking_, or pretty soon you'll end up how all your kind should be—burnt to a crisp and thrown in a shallow grave. And trust me: when I'm through with you, you won't be climbing out again." She jabbed me in the face with her staff, cracking part of the bone.

"Agh!" I yelped. Blood was dripping into my eyes, clouding my vision further.

Kaelana turned to leave. "You have three days." Almost as an afterthought, she spun back again and spit on me. Then she was gone; I heard the portal open and close, but couldn't see a damn thing though all the haze. I felt myself slipping out of consciousness from the overwhelming pain. The last vision I caught before I went under was the purple wall flickering, as if opening a third time…

* * *

I awoke on the cot. My first instinct was to bolt, but being unable to move, I laid still. A cool rag was pressed to my head, and two soft hands were in the midst of coaxing water down my throat. As I opened my eye orbs, I heard a sigh of relief.

"Good. You are alive," Spectress told me softly. "I was worried you weren't going to wake up."

I murmured in reply. Every inch of me hurt. Glancing down, I saw that I'd been patched back together with some sort of pink bandages. I studied them, wondering what they were made from. I'd never seen material like that before.

"Netherweave," Spectress said, as if reading my thoughts. "From Outland."

"Out… land?" I stammered. "Where is…" I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Shh. Rest now. I will explain." Spectress helped me drink another sip of water, and rewetted the washcloth on my scalp. "You really do not remember anything, Cassandri?"

"Dystressi," I corrected.

She sighed deeply. Mournfully. As if she'd just lost something valuable. "Clearly not. Well, I don't have a lot of time before Magistrix Kaelana notices I'm gone. I couldn't say anything with her and Nilas around." She leaned in closer. I could feel her breath against my battered face, and see her plump, dark lips moving as she whispered, "You stand accused of stealing a very important artifact from the Kirin Tor—the Heart of K'ure. It is a powerful relic from Outland, homeworld of the orcs. The Dark Portal was reopened a few months ago, just before you left, and this item was one of the first to come into the Violet Eye's possession. I know because I was one of the people who helped recover it."

"Whazzit do?" I asked, slurring.

Spectress shushed me again. "The Heart of K'ure has many uses, but one of the most interesting among them is its ability to cure the Plague from a single infected person. After that, it's consumed." She glanced over her shoulder worriedly. "You left five weeks ago to look for your sister. She'd been missing for a few months, and you said you were worried about her." Spectress moved in even closer. Now I could feel the tickle of her breath in my ear; despite all the agony wracking my body, and the tension of the circumstances we found ourselves in… I was a little turned on.

"Uh huh?" I groaned.

"I know you did not steal the Heart for your own gain, Dystressi," Spectress said, her voice practically below a whisper now. "I have reason to believe you took it to protect it from theft. That you knew someone _else_ was going to steal it, so you stole it first. I can't prove that yet, but trust me: I will be doing everything I can to clear your name. In the meantime, you _must_ try to remember whatever you can about the Heart: why you took it, where it is, all of that."

"Why?" I turned my orbs toward her, and locked onto her radiant silver eyes. "Why're you helping me?"

Her face twisted, as if she were in pain, and she did not speak for a moment. When she did, I could sense a deep sadness behind her words: "I have my reasons." She rose. "I must go now. I have been gone long enough as it is." I saw her conjure a few loaves of bread out of nothing; she placed these alongside a couple pouches of water on a small, enchanted table that she'd created next my bed. "I will be back," she told me hurriedly.

"Wait," I said. Spectress was already halfway out the door.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She smiled at me. What a beautiful smile she had. "My pleasure." Then she was gone, and I was alone again in my cell. Feeling weak, I quickly drifted off to sleep. I had no dreams.

My strength came back slowly over the next two agonizingly long days. When I was able, I stood and walked around. The food Spectress left me only lasted a morning; thankfully a pair of guards delivered meals regularly, so I wasn't ravenously hungry at any point. I tried to stretch and exercise my muscles, but it was difficult; the pain often overwhelmed me, and I'd pass out for hours at a time. My face was especially sore thanks to the crack Kaelana had put in my skull. Oh, if I'd but a pair of daggers and five minutes alone with that bitch…

Spectress didn't come back at any point during those boring hours. Neither did anyone else, for that matter. Had they gotten all they wanted from me? Perhaps something else was going on out there, some kind of disturbance. I couldn't be sure. My only contact was with the guards, and they weren't exactly chatterboxes. But I did have one thing to mull over: the paper I'd stolen from Kaelana. As soon as I could see straight I'd taken it from its hiding place in the lining of the cot—having massive claws does come in handy for cutting holes in fabric—and studied it carefully.

The only prominent feature was a twisted green design that took up the majority of the page. It radiated with a powerful energy, as if the symbol itself had magical properties. I turned it round and round, trying to understand what it could mean, but all I saw was the shape. Finally I spotted a tiny smidgen of writing along the bottom of the scrap. Alas, it was in a language I could not read or even recognize. I decided the note must be encrypted, perhaps enchanted, so that only those with the proper decoding spell could understand it. Phooey. Still, I hung onto it in the hopes that it may prove useful later.

Day three of my confinement. Well, I figured it was day three: with no clocks or windows, I had only a vague notion of the passage of time. They never shut the lights off, which made sleeping tricky, but at least I was never left shrouded in complete darkness—although frankly, my Rogueish side would've preferred that. I'd recovered the bulk of my strength, and my head was finally clear enough to allow a bit of lucid thought. So, this Heart of K'ure… I'd taken it? As Spectress pointed out, I had my reasons. But what were they? I couldn't remember anything about it.

Nor did I recall what my relationship was with the Kirin Tor. Kaelana had called me a mercenary. Perhaps I was only a hired hand? That didn't seem too far from the mark; after all, magic doesn't solve every problem. Sometimes the liberal application of cold steel is precisely what a situation calls for, and these fragile mages couldn't lift a sword above their heads, let alone charge into melee. So yes, someone with my skills would be a valuable addition to their fighting force. The way Spectress and Kaelana spoke gave me the impression that I was a part of the Violet Eye, at least on a contract basis. Maybe I'd even had something to do with the acquisition of the Heart in the first place.

The hours crawled past like the slow creep of a glacier. I paced the cell endlessly, mumbling theories to myself. Where might I have taken the Heart? Where was my sister, if I even had one? What happened to me in the Plaguelands? If the Heart could eliminate the Plague, and I took it to the Plaguelands when I went to find my sister… was I trying to cure her? But Spectress said I took it to protect it. My sister's fate, then, remained unknown. Perhaps she was Scourge. Maybe even Forsaken. Had I possibly run into her in Deathknell? I couldn't be sure.

So caught up was I in the furious machinations of my mind that I didn't notice when the lights overhead began to flicker intermittently. My distraction was only temporary; when the lights shut off completely, throwing me into black, I was combat-ready in a matter of seconds. No weapons. Well, I'd make due. I quickly reacquired the slip of paper from the cot and stowed it in my shirt. Then I took up a hidden position in the corner of the prison, and waited.

After a few minutes, lights illuminated the room again, but these were not the white ones I'd come to know; rather, I now saw everything as purple, for the glow was pure violet in color. The portal at the far side of the room shut down, revealing a figure in ebon clothing. I spotted the hooves and horns immediately.

"Dystressi? Are you in here?" Spectress urgently hissed.

I stepped forward from the shadows. "Present."

She thrust a bundle of armor and weapons into my hands. "Get dressed, quickly. I'm busting you out of here." I did not question this. In moments I was fully suited up: black leather pants, vest, gloves, bracers, boots, and belt. She'd procured some enchanted weapons for me, much to my delight: the jagged dagger at my left hip burned fiery red, while the shortsword at my right crackled with icy energy.

As I slipped the gloves over my hands—claws bursting through the fingertips—I said, "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Gladly," Spectress retorted, turning and dashing away. I followed silently. The whole prison was now awash with that purple light, and strange, violent noises were coming from every angle. "The city is under lockdown. Something has happened to the Council,' Spectress explained. "Hence the lighting."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I figured this would be the perfect time to launch the escape attempt I've been preparing for." We made our way across the round area and into a network of tunnels. Weird monsters howled at us from behind walls of force as we took turn after turn. "But we only have a short amount of time before-"

"Stop them!" a voice cried. We both turned. A gang of prison guards was at the far end of the tunnel we'd just traversed.

"Time to see what their insides look like," I growled, drawing my weapons.

"No," Spectress snapped. "That's an elite squad of highly trained mages. We need…" She spun quickly, looking for something. "Ah!" With a shout, she yanked a large lever on the wall.

All the containment portals along the hallway shut off.

"Time to go," Spectress ordered, snagging me by the arm. I managed to catch a glimpse of some sort of gigantic, flaming, two-headed hound barreling down on the hapless guards before we rounded the bend. Another few series of tunnels. Spectress seemed to know her way, so I followed without protest. Still, I wanted some action! I wanted to sink my blade into the throat of one of those squishy mage guards!

After every corridor, Spectress released the locks on the portals. "This should keep them quite occupied," she told me, a bit of laughter in her tone. I grinned.

The final hallway opened up into a huge circular chamber, with cells on every side save one. The far wall had two titanic doors built into its surface. It was toward this wall that Spectress led me, her hoofed feet echoing loudly in the wide space. We were just at the center of the circular area—I now noticed a colossal Violet Eye design on the floor—when the doors suddenly burst open. A female human sauntered into the room with three pikemen at her sides. She was a brunette, with a luminescent crystal sword in one hand and a large tome in the other. Her robes appeared purple, but then, so did everything else.

"Not so fast," she scolded, her voice deep and spiteful.

Spectress froze in place. "P-p-private Sinclari?" she stumbled. "What's going on?"

Sinclari bristled. "It's _Lieutenant_ Sinclari now. Field promotion. And the Magistrix is _quite_ upset that you decided to disappear during our moment of crisis."

Regaining her composure, Spectress coolly replied, "I am escorting this prisoner out of the Hold for further questioning."

"Bullshit," Sinclari countered. "You're helping her escape. Magistrix Kaelana warned me this might happen." She snapped her fingers, and the three pikemen began to march toward us. "Perhaps these gentlemen can teach you a bit about _loyalty?"_

With my reagent pouch now at my side again, I felt far better equipped to deal with these buffoons. I hurled a smoke pellet and vanished, reappearing seconds later behind one of the thugs. A cheap shot from my dagger put him out like a pinched candlewick, buying me precious seconds. Just as I was about to lunge at the next closest one, he let out a roar and transformed into… a tiny brown rabbit. I stared, dumbfounded.

"On my target!" Spectress shouted, unleashing a flurry of arcane missiles at the remaining active guard. I wasted no time. In seconds I was behind him, thrusting my dagger into his armor, trying to locate a weak point. I found it. He barely got a chance to cry out before I ripped a wide hole in his ribcage. Spectress launched a fireball, finishing him off.

"This one next!" I cried, performing a front flip over the confused bunny and landing with my sword on the guard's shoulder. He recovered quickly and countered with the pike. Shit, the rabbit had changed back too. Time for another of the tactics David had taught me: Evasion. I took a deep breath, forced myself to relax, and began bending around and between pike swings like a reed in the wind. Duck, lean, jump, tumble, making sinister strikes when I could, waiting for my chance. I hoped Spectress was cooking something up, because I couldn't do this forever.

She was. One of the guards came at me again, but out of nowhere found himself launched into the air by a blast of icy wind. He crunched against the floor some distance away. I spun quickly onto the other thug. _Splorch!_ My dagger struck a critical blow, severing his throat. He collapsed, gurgling. Spectress was busy raining down pellets of ice on the head of the remaining guard, creating a blizzard through which I could not safely traverse. The moment she stopped her assault, I dashed into the fray and eviscerated the guard, sending his guts to spilling unceremoniously to the floor.

Lieutenant Sinclari, I was pleased to note, seemed rather uneasy. "Tch," she grumbled. "Child's play. Let's see how you handle something a bit more… unstable?" She reached for a lever near the door.

"Sinclari, don't-" Spectress began to scream, but it was too late: all the containment portals around us flickered out. I felt my stomach drop to my toes. This was _really_ not good. We were surrounded on all sides by slavering beasts, bloodthirsty demons, and homicidal humanoids of every shape, color, and variety.

And most of them looked pretty fucking pissed off.

Three demented birdmen adorned in a variety of colorful beads and feathers waddled out of their cells atop a short set of steps to my left. Two were carrying small, sharpened twigs. The center one, clearly the ringleader, lofted a curved sword and squawked, "Free to—mm—fly now. Ra-aak… Not find us—ekh-ekh! Escape!"

Up another staircase from them hovered a massive, muscular black and blue entity with lustrous eyes and sparkling, magical armor. I heard its nebulous voice ring out as it cried, "I am… renewed."

Directly before me floated a being made entirely of water. It was holding a metal shield and massive iron club in its liquid hands. "I… am fury… unrestrained!" it rumbled, its voice distinctly female.

"Back in business!" a smooth male voice called. A glance in that direction revealed another strange humanoid: a man made entirely of light particles, loosely constrained by what appeared to be linen bandages. He was wielding a crystalline staff. "Now, to execute an exit strategy."

A plethora of roars and growls rounded out the varied utterances. With growing terror, I turned to see another of those immense two-headed fire-dogs come bounding from a large cell, accompanied by a floating, tentacled, one-eyed demon with a cascade of serrated teeth and a tongue bigger than Spectress and I put together.

"What do we do?" I shrieked. My draenei companion was looking about in her travel bag frantically, searching for something. At last she found it: a small stone emerged from the satchel, clutched between her fingers.

"Hold them off me for a minute!" she instructed. "I'm getting us out of here." Her hands began to shimmer with magic as she cast a spell. I spun wildly. Enemies were coming at me from every side. The world seemed to slow as I realized just how outnumbered I was, and how likely it was that both of us were about to die grisly, painful deaths.

Deep breath, Dystressi. One, two, one, two. Remember what David taught you: speed is a Rogue's best friend. React faster than time allows. I prayed I'd cooled down enough from my recent fight with the pikemen; I'd need a lot of energy if I hoped to fend off this gang for even a brief period of time. Keeping my composure, I reached into my thieves' tools and took out several reagents. Ready… steady… move!

The three winged weirdos yipped loudly as I hurled an explosive pellet behind them, causing them to turn in curious distraction. They spotted the Voidwalker up the stairs, and engaged him in combat, squawking loudly. I sprinted round the circular battlefield and blew a puff of blinding power in bandage man's face—or what I assumed was his face. He stumbled around, groaning. Next stop was the water elemental; I thrust the icy sword into her, causing part of her "flesh" to freeze. She let out a wail and staggered back.

I did a few handsprings and gouged the floating demon in its big eye, buying me all the time I needed to leap atop the hellhound and drive my weapons into its back. The beast roared in agony. Spectress, meanwhile, was still casting her spell. I tumbled off the front of the dog's face, dragging my dagger through its nose as I did so, and landed in a roll.

Perfect timing. Right as I rolled up to Spectress and popped to my feet, a glimmering portal erupted from the empty air. It let out a high-pitched screeching sound as it flickered between various intense colors. I felt a gentle suction coming from the bright chasm, as if it were trying to pull us in.

"Why didn't you do that before?" I shouted over the din.

"There's a dampening field in the prison!" Spectress yelled back. The monsters were coming out of their stupors, and beginning to advance. "I don't know where this portal will take us!"

I gestured around and shot her an exasperated glance. "Anywhere is better than here!"

"You think you've escaped?" Sinclari hollered from her post by the doors. "We'll hunt you down, Seeker! You and your undead friend can't run from the Kirin Tor! You of all people should know that!"

"C'mon!" I cried. Before Spectress could protest, I grabbed her arm and threw both of us into the portal. My feet leapt out from under me as we spiraled round and round in a flashing, dizzying world of colors. Shapes and sounds zipped past like arrows. I clutched her hand tightly, trying hard not to stab her with my inordinately long nails. Gripping her fingers in mine, although they were not warm to the touch, gave me a sense of comfort that I hadn't felt in weeks.

For one brief, beautiful instant, I wasn't scared anymore.

Then I was again, because we'd appeared hundreds of yards above the ground—which, despite its distance from us, was approaching faster and faster with every passing second.


	7. Hellfire and Brillstone

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 7 – Hellfire and Brillstone

LOADING…

CHANGING REALM… ERROR… REALM UNKNOWN…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

ERROR… CANNOT RETRIEVE CHARACTER INFORMATION…

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

I heard something resembling a scream come out of my mouth—Gods, was that _my_ voice?—but it was overshadowed by the orc's cacophonous bellowing as he barreled toward me, axe raised, globs of foamy spittle dripping from his lips. There was not even a moment to react: in seconds I'd feel the cold steel of that blade against my cheek. I winced. Just as the cleaver was about to sever my brain from its comfortable place in my skull, I saw a blur of color rush past me. The blow was countered, and the orc suddenly found himself on the defensive.

"Too pathetic to fight your own battles?" the demon—Felguard, some part of my brain explained—snarled, casting a fearsome glance over his shoulder. He drove into the orc with his battleaxe, drawing first blood. I finally managed to shake off my stupor and added a few spells to the mix. Between the Felguard's swings and my curses, we killed the orc in no time. The demon returned to my side grudgingly.

"Thank you," I told him. He huffed. "What is your name, demon?"

He stared at me. "By the Fel, you should know my name. Have you forgotten so quickly? Is your weak human brain incapable of holding information for more than minutes at a time?"

"Uh," I stammered. "Maybe?"

"My name is Skelzeras." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do not forget again, human." I studied this creature carefully: easily three heads taller than me, with gray skin and tiny features on a miniscule face. His muscle mass was impressive, to say the least, and over all but his chest and left shoulder hung tarnished bronze armor, dinged and scuffed from excessive use. His battleaxe, wielded in his left hand, had a smiling skull engraved in its surface.

"Where are we?" I questioned, a bit more hesitantly.

Skelzeras rolled his eyes. "What is the matter with you? This is Hellfire Peninsula. And that," he pointed at a previously unnoticed stone fortress looming ominously over the landscape, "is Hellfire Citadel, our destination. We're invading the fortress of the fel orcs. Now, if you're done asking stupid questions, can we get back to the fray?"

"Y-yes," I peeped. He immediately rushed off to the nearest orc and began wailing on him. What exactly was going on here? Skelzeras said we were assaulting Hellfire Citadel, but who were _we_? Was I a part of some greater fighting force, and if so, which? I looked down at my clothes for the first time. Bright purple and blue robes, overlaid with a sky-blue tabard adorned with a fierce lion head. A black staff at my back, tapered outward at both ends. The upper section had a set of diamond-shaped crystals orbiting its point. Battle-worn fingerless gloves, cloth boots, a skinny belt, and comfortable bracers. I also noticed I was wearing a necklace and two gemmed rings, and a couple of small trinkets dangled from straps at my waist. I didn't need a sorcerer to tell me these items were all magical in some way; I could feel my natural abilities being amplified.

As part of whatever group was assaulting Hellfire Citadel, it was clear now that I had a mission to fulfill. Yet I held back, reluctant to get anywhere near the bloodthirsty column of fel orcs I could see locked in combat before the fortress. I'd only been alive again for a few minutes; I didn't want to waste this second chance. Fear of experiencing another death kept me rooted to the spot.

"Hang on, Silina," I chided at myself. "This is clearly just a dream, or a vivid memory, or something. You're Blightfire now. You're dead and you're sitting in your room in Deathknell. This isn't really happening." It was true, I realized. How could I be alive once more? How could I suddenly be in a whole different world, in the middle of a war, wearing clothes I didn't own and commanding a demon I'd never seen? Feeling encouraged by this attitude, I rushed into the battle and came to the aid of some other humans in tabards like my own. They thanked me for my help and returned to combat.

Moments before I toasted yet another fel orc, I was interrupted by someone calling my name. A tall, long-eared, blue-skinned woman approached me with a look of urgency on her beautiful face. She was clad in white robes, a tabard, and some other minor pieces of armor. A luminescent mace hung from a clasp on her hip. Night elf. That was the name my mind gave me for this being.

"Private Silina," she barked. "Report."

I saluted, somehow knowing that this woman was my superior. "Ma'am. What do you wish to know?"

"Where is Corporal Bronzehollow?"

I assumed she was referring to the dwarf—the name felt Dwarven to me. "He… he was killed." I pointed vaguely in the direction I'd come from.

"I see." She turned and shouted at a nearby human man, who was engaged in vicious combat with a fel orc, "Private Jacint!"

"Yes, Sergeant Nightwind!" he replied cavalierly, as though he weren't moments away from being sliced in two.

"You're receiving a field promotion. You shall now be known as Corporal Jacint." Sergeant Nightwind threw him a salute, which he somehow returned in the midst of parrying a horizontal slash.

"Thank you Commander!" Jacint called back. He turned and slew the orc with a shout. Looking our way again, he shot us both a wide smile.

"Grats!" I added, not knowing quite what else to say.

Sergeant Nightwind turned her attention back to me. "You want a field promotion too, warlock? I've got a job for you. Come with me."

This was not a request. I followed quickly, signaling Skelzeras, who trailed behind me with a look of disgust in his beady eyes. Nightwind led me through the combat, stopping occasionally to cast a healing spell on a wounded soldier here or there—so she was a priestess, then. We soon reached a cliff overlooking the Citadel It was then that I noticed a small jury-rigged walkway leading to the fortress's ramparts. She paused here and spun to face me.

"Orders, Sergeant?" I said smartly.

"A number of Alliance troops are already on the ramparts ahead," Nightwind explained, "and are engaged in battle with the fel orc army. I want you to rendezvous with the forward assault team, headed up by Sergeant Acteon. Do whatever must be done to ensure that we take control of those ramparts." She saluted me. "Dismissed!"

I clumsily saluted back and hustled to the pathway. There was little opposition as I headed in the direction she'd pointed; everywhere I walked I found myself stepping over slain orcs or mutilated Alliance corpses. In moments I was in view of the main ramparts, and sure enough, there were dozens of small skirmishes going on as far as my eyes could see. Skelzeras grumbled at my side as I stood and gaped in awe.

The stone ramparts, hewn from a dark mineral that I could not name, were vast indeed. The path before me extended across a rough wooden bridge, upon which clashed orcs and humans in bloody combat. Beyond that the wall curved, and I could see a huge swarm of Alliance soldiers taking on a very large, very menacing orc force. A heavily armored commander—by the Gods, he had a giant blade in place of one of his hands!—was leading the screaming orcs into battle. I studied where I was standing carefully, wondering if that was the forward assault team I was supposed to locate.

The fortress extended quite a distance upward to my immediate right. Just slightly above me was another walkway, and this one had a large chunk of stone missing from its side, allowing upward passage with the proper tools. Speaking of which, I spotted a rope dangling from above. As I studied this interesting situation, a human head poked out over the edge.

"Silina!" the woman called, her trim blonde hair covering her light-skinned face as she peered down at me. "Up here! C'mon!"

I assumed this was Acteon, and made my way to the rope. Climbing it was surprisingly easy; my human body was impressively strong, considering its size. I felt my flesh grow warm and sweaty as I pulled myself upward hand over hand. Ahh. It was really wonderful to experience heat again. After a few minutes of exertion, I'd reached the top of the line. The woman helped pull me up over the last little bit. Before I could say anything, she threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly.

"I'm so glad you're okay! I lost track of you back there!" she murmured into my ear as she held her face against my shoulder.

"Uh… yeah, me too," I replied cautiously, patting her back with my hands. This was _really _weird. Who was this girl? Why was she touching me? Yet even as I wondered these things, I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of… comfort.

She released me from the hug and slid a large steel helmet onto her head, concealing all but her piercing blue eyes. "Let's go!" she exclaimed, beckoning me down the rampart. "The others are holding position up ahead. I was on my way to meet them, but I spotted you so I waited." She led me a number of paces forward; soon we encountered a gang of other Alliance soldiers huddled behind a pile of debris. I stole a quick look around the side: we were hiding from a broad, circular platform that overlooked a large section of Hellfire Peninsula and the other parts of the Citadel. There didn't appear to be any opposition in the area.

"Private Silina," a strange male humanoid addressed me. His skin was brilliant blue. Two horns erupted from his head, and he had a number of tentacle-like appendages dangling from his chin. He was stocky and clad in heavy mail, and I spotted an ornate crossbow in his arms and two hand-axes at his sides. He was kneeling beside a large, orange, three-legged beast with more spikes and teeth than actual body.

"Sir?" I answered, wondering what this creature—Draenei, the voice said—was, and whether I should obey his orders.

He gave me a salute, which I returned. "Sergeant Aceton. We met briefly before passing through the Dark Portal?"

I nodded as if I remembered. "Uh huh."

"Anyway, glad to have you here to help. Meet the assault team." He began gesturing to each person in turn: "Corporal Lariia Starseeker, priestess of Elune." A pale night elf in blue robes and a hood bowed before me, chanting a brief prayer as she did so; "Private Pegy Springblade." A diminutive, adorable girl—gnome—waved at me as she sat sharpening a pair of daggers on a whetstone; "Myself, and of course you know our warrior." The blonde woman patted me on the shoulder.

"With all due respect sir, can we get going?" Pegy said in a high voice. She brushed a bit of her short, white hair out of her face, and sheathed the daggers. "We've been waitin' here almost ten minutes."

"Yes Pegy, now that we have a fifth member for our party, I think we're ready to take on the challenge ahead." Acteon let out a shrill whistle, causing his pet to stand at attention. "Forward assault team, move out on my mark."

I felt my heart begin to thump in my chest. What was in store for us? What sort of foe were we about to face? And how had I gotten myself wrapped up in this ridiculous scenario? I readied myself for battle, reviewing spells in my mind as I waited behind Acteon. Skelzeras shifted eagerly from one foot to another. At least _someone_ was excited about getting into a fight.

Acteon leaned out from behind the rubble and surveyed the platform ahead. He flicked two fingers forward. "Go."

With that one syllable, the five of us burst into action: Pegy sprinted around the corner and disappeared from view; the blonde woman equipped a sword and shield as she clunked toward the platform; Lariia moved up next, casting a protective spells around herself; I followed behind with Acteon at my side. Now I saw what we were here to assault: overhead, a massive, winged beast let out a screech. I caught sight of an armored fel orc on the dragon's back.

"You have faced many challenges," he bellowed in a thick, fearsome tenor, "pity they were all in vain!" The dragon began to descend. "Soon your people will kneel to my lord!" The orc leapt from his mount and landed with a tremendous crash. He rose to his full height—easily towering over all but Acteon—and let out a terrifying battle cry.

"Assault team! On the orc Vazruden!" Acteon bellowed. His pet charged into battle, as did the blonde warrior. She deflected a blow from Vazruden's sword with her shield and counterattacked. I moved in closer. Skelzeras now joined the melee, his axe clanging off the orc's durable armor. Even with a crowd of attackers, it appeared Vazruden was hardly breaking a sweat fending them off.

The fighting intensified twofold as Acteon starting firing crossbow bolts, and Pegy appeared from the shadows to thrust her daggers into Vazruden's backside. I was momentarily distracted by her combat finesse: despite being such a tiny creature, she'd already managed to scale Vazruden's back, and was now chipping away at the armor on his shoulders. He swatted at her, but she smoothly back flipped off him and redoubled her efforts. I threw a Curse of Agony and Corruption into the mix, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't hit any of my many varied companions in the process. My Shadow Bolts flew true as well, striking Vazruden in his torso as he attempted to cleave the warrior in two.

"You are nothing! I answer to a higher call!" Vazruden thundered.

He swung hard. The blonde took a major hit in her arm and staggered back a moment, but kept fighting. Then before my eyes, the wound stitched itself together; I caught a glimpse of Lariia sending white light from her hands to the injured spot. That was a nice trick.

"Your time is running out!" Vazruden called. He spun in a whirlwind, sending Pegy, Skelzeras, and Acteon's pet flying. Lariia began healing them as they landed. Vazruden, meanwhile, shouted, "Nazan!"

The armored drake dove from the sky into the fray. His body was black, and his wings purple. The whole creature seemed to phase in and out of existence from second to second. I knew not what sort of beast this was, but classifying the fauna of the ramparts was exceedingly low on my priority list, so I let it slide in favor of casting Immolate. Nazan swung his tail, knocking back Pegy, the pet, and Skelzeras. He opened his mouth to release a column of flame, which the blonde woman absorbed with her shield.

With the warrior distracted, Vazruden charged at Acteon. The draenei suddenly crumpled to the ground as though dead, yards before the orc actually made contact. What the hell was he… wait, it worked? Sure enough, Vazruden changed his focus.

"Your days are done!" he taunted, rushing at Lariia. She let out a scream and backpedaled. I saw blood spray from small wounds as he swung his blades in her face. I heard her cry out in desperate prayer, healing most of her wounds, but still Vazruden came, and in moments she was bloody once more.

"Help me!" she cried in a panic. I'd been keeping up a steady stream of curses and shadow bolts. There was nothing more I could do. But then from nowhere, the warrior intercepted Vazruden, and countered his blow with a shield block. He focused on her with a raging roar, putting dent after dent into her large metal shield. So absorbed was she in fending off his blows that she failed to spot the dragon behind her, preparing to lunge.

"Look out!" I hollered. The warrior took a blow from behind; the impact knocked her helmet off. She let out a very intimidating shout, causing Vazruden to flinch long enough for her to slip around him. Now his back was to the dragon, and her back was to me.

I sent bolt after bolt zipping past her. The others were occupied with various tasks: Lariia was still recovering from a few hits she'd taken while under attack from Vazruden, Pegy was stabbing the living hell out of the dragon's scaly neck, the pet and demon were cutting into Vazruden, and Acteon was firing a barrage of bolts into Nazan's side and wings. Although we'd had to struggle with a rocky transition, we were winning the fight!

Our assumed victory didn't last long. The blood pulsing through my ears grew dramatically in volume as I saw my companions—one by one, like ivory dominoes—begin to falter and fall before our adversary. It started with Pegy: the drake managed to shake her off and maul her with his claws, sending her flying. She lay still on the cold stone some distance away. Next, Acteon's crossbow jammed, forcing him to leave off his assault to fix it. Lariia was barely keeping the warrior alive. The dragon quickly turned his attention to Skelzeras. With a fast bite, he'd mortally wounded the demon. Acteon's pet went a similar route.

Time slowed. I could hear my heart beating like war drums. A cold sweat had broken out over my whole body, and I stopped casting, dumbfounded, unable to see anything but those bloodstained teeth as Nazan ripped Lariia to pieces and turned on the blonde warrior. She was holding her own amazingly well, even against two foes at once, but I knew she couldn't keep up that pace for-

Wait.

What was that? On her neck?

It… it couldn't be.

My eyes widened. All other thoughts and emotions faded from my mind as stared at the black symbol on the back of the girl's head, just below her hairline. Three skulls bound by chains.

Dystressi? But she was-

* * *

-screaming in my ear, "Blightfire! Wake up! Wake up!" Mitexi shook my shoulder violently. Her skin glowed ghostly pale in the moonlight.

"What? Huh?" I stammered, disoriented. My voice was scratchier than usual, and I could feel icy moisture against my cheeks. Where was I? I looked around: Deathknell. Center of town. The Chapel was to my left, the Inn to my right. I was kneeling on the frigid soil in my underwear, with tears streaming down my face and a very worried-looking Mitexi standing beside me.

"Blightfire! You're awake!" she cried, helping me to my unsteady feet. "Gods, you had me really scared!"

"I did?" I asked, confused by everything that was happening. "What was I doing?"

"You don't remember?" she retorted in surprise. "You were crying, really loud. I heard you and came out here to find you kneeling on the ground, muttering something about the cold."

"The cold?"

"Yeah, like, 'It's so cold, so cold, I'm so cold.' Like that."

I pondered this. "How long have I been out here?"

"I don't know," she told me as we began walking to the Inn. "Could've been a long time. I only awoke a minute or so ago." She looked me up and down, paying special attention to my knee bones. "Seems like you've been on the ground for a while," she added. "See how dirty you got?"

No kidding. I was filthy. When we reached my bedroom, I did my best to wipe away the soil. "Mitexi," I mumbled as I dressed. "Can… can I stay with you tonight?" I discovered I was shivering, despite always being cold. I felt confused and afraid.

"Sure," she answered kindly. "We can share my bed." This was a relief. I was more shaken than a boat in a thunderstorm, and had no desire to be alone that night. Mitexi led me back to her place, and we crashed on her soft queen-size mattress. I fell into a dreamless sleep mere moments after lying down.

The sunlight awoke me far too few hours later; I rolled over and tried to pretend I wasn't awake, but it didn't work. Grunting, I discovered my bedmate was already up and about. She had a tasty—well, as tasty as things could be that weren't human flesh—meal of sweet rolls, fungus, and ice cold milk prepared. After breakfast we tidied ourselves up and went to meet Maximillion. I wanted to get his opinion on what'd happened, so when the opportunity arose, I told the story to our mentor.

"Interesting," he said after I finished my recounting. "But I wouldn't make much of it. Sounds like a simple case of sleepwalking. You're lucky you didn't curse anyone while you were wandering around."

I nodded. "That's good." Sleepwalking… but it was so vivid. So real.

Maximillion sent Mitexi to warm up her spells, and pulled me aside to tell me, "Blightfire, you look terrible. Well, moreso than usual." I chose to take this remark as a joke. "I want you to have a day off to rest. Not only do you need it, but to be honest with you, I think your skills have surpassed even my own. You're ready to move out of the valley and seek your fortune elsewhere."

I was a bit startled by this news. "Master, are you certain?"

"Yes," he said emphatically. "You are ready."

I didn't feel ready. But I could see his point: I was doing in days what Mitexi hadn't been able to accomplish in weeks. I cast a sidelong glance at her black locks as she fired shadow bolt after shadow bolt, her concentration unshakeable—the prospect of leaving her behind and heading off on my own seemed entirely unappealing. This desire for companionship gave me an idea.

"Master," I began.

"You may call me Max now. We are equals."

"Max," I corrected. "How close is Mitexi to completing her training? When will she be ready to leave?"

He let out a deep breath. "I cannot say for certain, but she has made considerable progress since you arrived. I think perhaps she looks up to you."

My cold heart grew slightly warmer. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm. She may be prepared sooner than I expected, in fact."

This was excellent news. "Thanks Max. I'll check in later, okay?" He nodded, and I returned to the Inn to catch up on sleep. I hadn't felt this tired since… well, since I'd come back to life. Venya greeted me as I entered and offered a bowl of her famous stew, but I politely declined. My bed was more inviting than ever, and I curled up in it, eyes barely open.

Perhaps needless to say, I slept like the dead. I awoke in the middle of the afternoon and got lunch from downstairs. Then, having nothing else to do, I decided to try on my new duds. The robes were magnificent: deep, inky black, with sparkling silver thread around the hem and through the center, forming an ornate pattern. My staff was less impressive to look at—a solid gray pole with pink crystals at either end—but its shadow wrath enchantment was sure to be of use the next time I cast a shadow spell. My fancy boots were very attractive. Dyed a cool blue, they felt marvelous on my weathered toes, thanks to their rabbit fur lining. Moccasins of the White Hare, Saltain had told me. The magic bracers I'd swiped from Meven's tent finished off the ensemble. Damn, I was lookin' _good_.

I killed time in the Inn and, later that evening, with Mitexi at her place. I talked at length about how to summon an imp and what the process felt like. The girl listened with rapt interest; I could tell she was a bit jealous, but on the whole seemed eager to learn from me, and I was happy to provide her with whatever I could. I felt well enough to sleep in my room at Death's Rest that night. No dreams.

The next day, Mitexi was already standing with Max when I arrived. She hopped from foot to foot. "I've been working really hard," she was pleading. "I'm ready!"

Max turned to me and asked, "Blightfire! Glad you're here. What do you think? Is Mitexi ready to attempt the summoning ritual?" His tone was friendly.

Judging from what I'd heard last night, and what I'd seen her do, I knew she could handle it. "It's time." Mitexi let out a whoop of excitement and raced off to the shaded glade, with Max and I on her heels. She drew the complex summoning circle in the dirt from memory—no easy feat—and stood in the center at attention.

"As before, I will be nearby to assist you," Max informed the eager warlock. He held out a hand. "Whenever you're ready."

I watched wordlessly as Mitexi shut her eyes and began to concentrate. She made a number of twisted and admittedly humorous faces as her connection to the Fel widened. I could see her hands clench into fists, and I knew she was struggling. But her tenacity paid off. After a minute or so, her imp materialized on the ground before her.

"Demon," she bellowed in a menacing voice, "you are under my command!"

The imp cowered slightly at this announcement. "As you wish, mistress," he squeaked timidly.

"Your name?" she demanded. "Speak up, imp."

"Daguri."

"Very good." She flicked her hands, and the imp was dismissed. "Eee!" Before I knew it I was wrapped in her clammy, partially rotted arms. "Blightfire! Thank you! I can't believe I finally did it!" She released me and bowed low before Maximillion. "Master, I am indebted to you."

Max waved away her humility. "Mitexi, you have worked very hard to reach this point. I have watched you change from a scared young caster into a full-fledged warlock with an imp at her command. The honor is mine." He saluted her firmly, and she returned the gesture.

"Great job, Texi," I said happily. This was a big day for her, and I felt pleased that I'd been a part of it. Of course, her powers paled in comparison to mine… but what did that matter? She was doing her best.

"It is well," Maximillion spoke up, "that you have reached this point today, Mitexi. It means you no longer have need of my expertise; you are ready to find another, more powerful trainer to assist you. It also means Blightfire will not be alone on her next adventure."

We both turned and stared at him. "Pardon?" I said.

He extracted an envelope from his robes. "This missive came to me today via courier from Brill. They are requesting immediate assistance from all able-bodied Forsaken here in the valley. Apparently Brill is under siege from some sort of phantom, and they've asked all the trainers in town to send anyone who is ready." He handed me the paper. "Both of you are strong enough. As your former master, I have but one more favor to ask: go quickly and save Brill from whatever evil has befallen it. If Brill falls, the Forsaken will lose even more ground in Tirisfal. That must not be allowed to happen."

Mitexi and I stood there a moment, stunned. Maximillion's expression was grave. Finally, I spoke up: "As you wish, master." She and I performed the Forsaken salute one last time, as did Max, and we parted ways from there, leaving him standing alone in the forest.

"Omigod Blight, I can't believe it! We're going out on our own!" Mitexi said as we reached Deathknell, her excitement almost palpable.

"Yeah. Thrilling," I responded, still lost in thought. What was happening to Brill? For that matter, _where_ was Brill? Would we be able to handle the dangers ahead? I could find no refuge from my worries as Mitexi packed her few possessions into her travel bag and returned her house keys to Venya. I had no other objects to collect, so I checked out of my room. Venya thanked us both for our patronage with a warm smile.

We stood on the threshold of Death's Rest. "Ready?" my new partner asked eagerly.

"As I'll ever be," I responded blandly. We marched out of Deathknell, across the valley's sweeping hills, through the fog, and right up to the final gates before Tirisfal. A Deathguard was standing there, keeping watch. He halted us as we approached.

"Papers, please," the man barked.

I looked at him curiously. "Papers?"

"I can't let anyone out who hasn't had clearance from a trainer," he informed me. "Deathknell protocol. Don't want you getting killed out there."

"Right." I passed him the missive. After a moment, he handed it back, along with two copies of a map of Tirisfal Glades.

"Best of luck." The wide wooden gates opened just enough to permit us though. No sooner had we stepped out onto the narrow dirt road than they closed behind us with a loud _thunk_. We were in the open. Tirisfal Glades stretched before us like a rolling sea of dingy green.

The area was dark and hazy, just like the valley we'd come from. Before us winded a thin brown path, flanked by towering pines and low brush. To the west I could see farmlands, right beyond the trees, and to the north, a windmill very far in the distance. East was our direction of choice, according to the map, and so we went, marching quickly to a junction and turning at a sign labeled "Brill". Mitexi was uncharacteristically quiet. A quick glance revealed the reason: she was terrified.

"It's okay," I said gently, hoping to ease her fear. In truth, I was pretty nervous myself. "We're doing fine."

"Y-yeah," she replied. "No problem."

We encountered no opposition of any kind during the first leg of our journey. The path weaved in and out of the trees, and yards off we spotted a few small canine creatures with glowing red eyes. I could sense these demons from afar, I found. But they didn't attack us, and we made sure not to provoke them. A few mindless Scourge came after us near some abandoned farmhouses; we fended them off with ease and pressed on. By midday we'd reached a massive graveyard, which—according to the aged maps we'd been given—was right on the outskirts of Brill.

I let Mitexi know this. "The town should be around the next corner."

"Do you smell something burning?" Mitexi asked as we walked the final bend before Brill. "It's strong."

"Yes," I answered with growing dread in my throat, "look!" I pointed ahead. The town of Brill—much larger and more densely populated than Deathknell—was aflame from top to bottom. Every building I could see had some kind of fire licking its rafters. Dozens of Forsaken in all manner of garb were rushing back and forth from a gigantic tub of water in the town square, carrying buckets to douse the flames. The air rang with screams, cries for help, orders shouted by the city leadership, and the ever-present crackle of fire eating wood.

"Let's go help!" Mitexi hollered, dashing for the water. I followed suit. We found buckets and began putting out the blaze as best we could. I would fill a bucket and pass it off to Mitexi, who'd dash to the nearby buildings and hurl the liquid on them. Soon others began handing me empty buckets to fill, and a chain formed. The air was thick with black smoke.

We were making great progress, but even so it took almost half an hour to extinguish all the flames; at last the final hiss of dying fire filled the air. Instead of celebrating, however, most of the Forsaken hurtled into the nearby buildings and shut the doors.

"He's coming!" a female Forsaken in singed robes cried. "He'll be upon us any moment!"

"Save yourselves!" a man added as he disappeared into a small house.

Before we could blink twice, the square was completely deserted. Only a handful of armored Deathguards remained outside, along with two rather bewildered warlocks and the smell of burnt woodwork.

Mitexi shot me a worried look. "Blight, what's happen-"

As if on cue, a deafening, elongated cackle pierced the cold air. We both looked up just in time to see a powerfully built man descend from the sky on a black horse with hooves of emerald fire. He was wielding a luminous greatsword, and the eyes beneath his spiked helmet glowed brilliant green. The ghoul landed on the road before us, and pointed the sword in our direction. Though we'd said nothing to indicate we wanted to lead, the Deathguards took up positions behind us, as if waiting for orders. Our assailant, meanwhile, reached up and—much to my surprise—removed his head. He held it in his free hand with disinterest, as though it were a piece of trash he'd just collected off the ground.

The head began to speak. "My flames have died, left not a spark," it thundered, the voice rattling my bones, "I shall send you myself to the _lifeless dark_!" The Headless Horseman cackled madly once more, and charged toward us.

"We're gonna die!" Mitexi screamed. She cowered in fear at my side.

"No we're _not!"_ I shouted in reply, readying a Curse of Agony. I hadn't come this far to be cut down by some brainless boogeyman. If he wanted a fight, then by the Gods, _he'd have one_.


	8. Hallow's Beginning

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 8 – Hallow's Beginning

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: BLIGHTFIRE

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

I pushed Mitexi sideways, sending her sprawling to the dirt as I quickly dove in the other direction. The Horseman barreled past us into the waiting blades of the Deathguards. I pegged him with a Curse of Agony and a Corruption as he went by, causing his flesh to begin peeling. Hooves collided with armor as the Deathguards scattered around the specter, and he wheeled his steed back for another pass.

"Harken cur! Tis you I spurn!" he cackled, "now feel… the burn!" A massive, orange globe flew from his hand—wait, where was his head?—and latched itself onto the skull of one of the Deathguards. The man stumbled about wildly, flailing. I could smell burning flesh in the air as the object burst into flames. Ouch.

Mitexi was on her feet again, firing off spells at her usual rapid pace. Between the two of us, we appeared to be doing substantial damage to the Horseman; he was riding in an uneven zigzag as he came our way. I leapt out of his path again. The remaining Deathguards were hot on his trail, save for the one with the blob on his head, who was dead or close to it. Yet even with our efforts, it seemed the Horseman wasn't going down easily. We needed something more. Something to enhance our powers.

I wracked my brain for anything that might help. Max hadn't taught me much beyond the few spells I'd been using, but… yes, there it was, lurking in my memories like a hidden treasure. As Silina, I'd been aware of far more powers than I could currently recall, but some of them were still back there somewhere, waiting. I cried out in Demonic and struck the rider with a Curse of Elements. Immediately, the flames of Mitexi's Immolate grew higher, and her Shadow Bolts exploded in wider bursts. Excellent! It was working!

Our barrage quickly slowed and crippled the horse. It tumbled sideways, casting the ghoul to the hard earth. He was on his feet in moments and swung into melee with a Deathguard, parrying and striking like a madman. But he was losing, and he knew it. After only seconds on his feet, a final slew of Shadow Bolts knocked him prone. The Deathguards stood back, waiting to see what would happen.

From overhead we heard another deep laugh. "So eager you are, for my blood to spill. Yet to vanquish me, 'tis my _head_ you must kill!" I spotted the Horseman's head zipping away into the forest. It was gone before I could blink twice. The air grew still, and the smoke from the extinguished fires began to dissipate.

Forsaken started peeking out of their homes as Mitexi and I helped the Deathguards carry the corpse of their fallen comrade. The object that had incinerated his face was, oddly enough, a pumpkin. The body of the Horseman melted into the earth just seconds after its demise, leaving us with no clues to his whereabouts or loot to aid in our future defenses—for I assumed there would be another attack. It seemed inevitable, and from the way the Forsaken shouted before the Horseman arrived, this wasn't the first time they'd dealt with him.

A couple of Deathguards took the body to the graveyard, while the remainder invited us to Gallows' End Tavern for a drink. Mitexi and I agreed without hesitation. We could use something to calm our nerves after our climactic arrival. The tavern was a large, bright building, with two floors and spacious seating. We gathered around a table near a glowing hearth, and the barkeep—she introduced herself as Renee—brought a round of Dwarven Stout.

The guards told us their names one by one: Cyrus, Linnea, Simmer, Lundmark, and Terrence. Cyrus, clearly the senior among them, explained their situation: the Horseman had assaulted the city several times in the last week. Their courier went out after the third attack, and so far we were the only ones who'd answered the summons. The town was beginning to fall apart at the seams; every strike drove more and more Forsaken to seek refuge in Undercity. Agents of the Banshee Queen were too occupied with Scourge infringements at the Bulwark and Alliance incursions from Silverpine to assist, so Brill was left to rely on its Deathguards as its sole defense.

"And believe me," Cyrus concluded, "we're getting sick of fending off that pumpkin-tossing bastard." He pounded down his mug of ale.

"We're really glad you're here," Simmer commented. "Bout time they sent someone out of Deathknell. Lately the flow of new bodies has dwindled."

Linnea chimed in, "Seems the number of undead surviving the transformation from Scourge to Forsaken is shrinking, so I hear." She took a sip.

"Aye," a few others agreed.

We ordered another round. "Sho have you gotten your candy from Renee yet?" Lundmark asked us eagerly.

I shook my head. "Candy?"

"Yesh, your Hallow's End treat bag!" he exclaimed. "Didn't you notice the decorations? …hic!"

Mitexi and I looked at our surroundings. Sure enough, the Tavern was bedecked in elaborate festive attire: small cutouts of ghosts, gourds, and skulls hung from the walls and rafters; jack-o-lanterns burned with a warm glow in various corners; and a large tub filled with water and apples rested near the bar, waiting for participants to make fools of themselves. I chuckled. What kind of buffoon would dunk his head in a tub like that just to get an apple?

Three drinks later I found myself kneeling beside the basin, hair pulled back and face dripping. "Blight! Blight! Blight!" Mitexi and a few others chanted excitedly, screaming and clapping as I caught my breath. I thrust my head in again, clunking craniums with Deathguard Linnea as we both went for the same piece of fruit. I growled underwater at her, and she backed off. Damn right. Step off bitch. I burst back to the surface with the shiny red apple clutched between my teeth, eliciting a victorious roar from Mitexi and my teammates.

My vision swam a bit as I wiped my hair dry with my robes and took a few bites of the apple. Mitexi was next; I helped tie her hair back, and in she went. I applauded and cheered for her each time she surfaced, laughing with the other Deathguards at the expressions on her face as she inhaled water and sputtered. Ah, this was fun! What a relief to be able to relax for a while.

We finished our game and the Deathguards returned to their posts outside. Cyrus paid the tab for the evening, telling us he owed more than just a round of drinks for the assistance we'd provided. As they left, I recalled Lundmark's comment about the Hallow's Eve treats. Mitexi and I met with Renee, and received gift bags. We tore them open impatiently.

"Whoa! Check thish out!" Mitexi cried. She held up a flimsy paper mask. "I'm an orc!" she growled, her face now concealed by green skin and prominent canines.

I pulled a weird seed from my bag. "What ish this? …hic!" I asked.

Mitexi stared at it, mystified. "Ooo," she whispered. "That'sh… whoa."

"You're quite lucky!" Renee said, walking up beside us. "That's a Sinister Squashling. If you care for that seed properly, it will sprout into a small plant that can follow you around."

"Shinishter… Shquashling?" Mitexi repeated, slurring.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Seriously?" As strange as it sounded, I was intrigued. "What does the plant do?"

"Nothing really," she explained. "But it's fun to have a pet, and a Squashling is easy to care for." She filled me in on proper growing procedures. Seemed simple enough: pouch with soil, water twice a day, keep near flowing air. I thanked her and inquired about a room. "Oh, yes, we do have a room available," she told me, fetching the key. "It'll be ten silver per night for both of you."

I turned to Mitexi. "How much you got on you?"

She patted her pockets and began scrounging through her travel bag. "Erm… like twenty copper."

"Yeah, I only have three shilver," I retorted. Turning back to Renee, I said shyly, "Um, any chance we can owe you and pay later?"

She sighed. "Well, you wouldn't be the first rookies from Deathknell to come wandering in here penniless. Yeah, I'll lend you the room for a night, but you need to pay me tomorrow, understand? I don't care how. You can find work in the morning; I'm sure the Magistrate or Executor can dig up something for you to do." She passed us the key. "First door on the left."

"Thank you," I said, catching Mitexi's arm and leading her upstairs. We both wobbled a bit as we walked. Whew, that Stout really hit hard. It was beginning to grow dark outside, and both of us were exhausted from our day of travel and combat. The room was tidily prepared as we entered.

"You wanna jusht go to bed?" Mitexi asked. She stumbled and fell on the mattress. "Hehe!" she giggled.

"I… eeeyah… guessh so," I responded, yawning. We'd been given a chamber with separate beds, and that suited me fine; while I didn't mind sharing with Mitexi, she did tend to steal the blankets, I'd discovered. We readied ourselves and were soon fast asleep, the sounds of the forest lulling us into quiet, drunken slumber.

The next morning, Renee offered us a light meal before directing us to Executor Zygand. He was outside, mounted astride a skeletal horse. The beast had blue trappings, but was otherwise entirely skin and bone, minus the skin. Zygand—his bald head pale and spotted with disease—narrowed his fearsome orbs at us as we approached.

"Executor Zygand," I began, "we are newcomers from Deathknell. I'm Blightifre, and this is Mitexi."

She waved. "Heya."

"We're trained as warlocks, and we're seeking work here in town. Do you have any paying jobs we could take on?"

He remained stone-faced as he said, "Brill is in need of more blankets for our wounded troops. Mrs. Winters has been working hard on stitching new ones and is making good progress, but I'm sure she could use a bit of help. I'll give you a few copper for each blanket you complete. That should be a manageable task for you little girls. Can't have you going out into the field getting in fights."

"What?" I replied indignantly. "_Excuse_ me?" Zygand paused, and turned his unreadable gaze upon me. I could feel the black blood in my veins boiling with anger.

"Blight," Mitexi murmured worriedly, still grinning from ear to ear at our benefactor, "heh heh, what are you doing?"

I continued, "With all due respect, Executor, we are trained fighters, not weak seamstresses! We are more than capable of taking on a field mission!"

"Bliiiight," Mitexi hissed urgently, elbowing me in the ribs with her bony arm. "Shut uuuuup…"

"And frankly I find your attitude toward women appalling. Just because I'm female, that makes me unable to handle myself in combat? I could take you right now. C'mon, hop off that horse. I'll show you how a _little girl_ fights." I was breathing hard.

Zygand rubbed his chin. A crooked, slightly malicious smile spread across his face. "You fancy yourselves pretty powerful then, do you? Perhaps I have something more in line with your… 'abilities'." He gestured at a pair of large Wanted posters on the wall of the town hall behind him. "Take a look at those."

I moved quickly and gave them a once-over. The first: "Wanted Dead: Captain Melrache. Commander of Scarlet Crusade forces west of the Scarlet Monastery. Known operations center at Faol's Rest, northeast of Brill. Wanted for the murder of dozens of Forsaken, the interruption of critical supply caravans, and other varied crimes carried out by Scarlet agents at his behest. Bring his disgusting head to Executor Zygand for a reward." The second: "Wanted Dead: Maggot Eye. A brutal gnoll leader last seen pillaging graves near Garren's Haunt. Wanted for the theft of corpses deemed fit for transformation into Forsaken. Deliver his paw to Executor Zygand for a reward."

Returning to Mitexi and the Executor, I announced, "Now that's more like it." Mitexi shot me a nervous glance.

"Glad to hear it. Fifty silver for each of you for every bounty you bring back," Zygand replied forcefully. We remained standing beside him for a moment, waiting. He looked at us. "You need something else? Get moving."

Mitexi snagged my arm like a wolf clamping down on a rabbit and yanked me away from the Executor. As she and I walked north into the forest, she shrieked, "What the heck were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "He was screwing with us. Sewing blankets? That's bullshit. We're highly skilled warlocks, Texi."

She bit her lip. "I know that, but… well, you didn't have to be so rude about it."

"I don't think I was that rude, but whatever."

Mitexi stared at me with minor confusion in her eyes. "What's gotten into you Blight? You're acting weird."

"I…" but then I stopped, because I realized she was right. This _wasn't_ like me. I'd happily taken on every task given to me in Deathknell, no questions asked. Why was I suddenly talking back to superior officers and making demands of strangers? Going quiet, I nodded solemnly. "You're right. Sorry." I couldn't put my finger on why I'd been so… rambunctious.

Mitexi and I discussed our options. More Scarlets seemed manageable, but her experiences with them so far had been less than ideal, so we opted to take on Maggot Eye at Garren's Haunt first. It was a relatively short hike north along a wide dirt road before we spotted a bedraggled wooden sign indicating the way. Two miles. Cakewalk. We took the path and passed through the forest, soon finding ourselves in a hilly, desolate grassland. The roar of the ocean could be heard not too far off now; Mitexi informed me that Tirisfal bordered the Great Sea, and many of the area's farms were built along the high bluffs overlooking the coast. Garren's Haunt, it seemed, was one such locale.

We first realized we'd arrived by the smell: rotting meat and stinking gnoll fur caked with feces and filth. A party of two undead gnolls patrolled the entry to the farmstead. Their skin was mottled with patches of decay, and beneath their crude cloth hoods shined sickly red eyes mounted in desiccated skulls. The gnolls were armed with crude maces.

Mitexi and I found a safe place to hide as we summoned our imps. They chattered quietly at one another in Demonic. "Pipe down you two!" I ordered, hushing them immediately. "We're taking on a farm full of zombie dog-men. You ready?"

Quznam stuck out both pointer fingers at me and wiggled his thumbs, making a clicking sound as he did so. "Ehhh!" he squeaked. I rolled my eyes. Figures I'd get a cheeky imp. Mitexi's was much better behaved: he was already by her side, waiting patiently with his head down. I pointed sternly at Quznam, and he zipped it.

"On my mark," I whispered as the gnolls drew near. "…now." We both let loose a flood of spells. In seconds, the gnolls were burning up and breaking down under a slew of fireballs and Shadow Bolts. They yipped and howled fiercely, yet didn't even make it close enough to us to swing their weapons before collapsing into lifeless heaps. Nothing to it. I eyed the bodies hungrily… but this wasn't the time for that.

"Over there!" Mitexi gasped. "Isn't that the gnoll from the poster?" She pointed at the farmhouse; a quick look confirmed her observation. Maggot Eye was walking just inside the front doors, with a pair of burly guards at either side of the entrance. Without wasting a moment, I charged forward, letting a Curse of Agony fly. The guards came at me with swords raised; Quznam and Daguri pelted them with fireballs and Mitexi did her best to bring them down quickly. It appeared that Maggot Eye hadn't noticed our assault. With the guards dead—I'd suffered only a minor scratch, which a linen bandage quickly relieved—the four of us made our way to the doorframe and peered inside.

The farmhouse was in ruins. Clearly this was where the gnolls brought their spoils after each raid: the walls were splattered with dried gore, and the floor groaned beneath the weight of bones picked clean by sharp teeth. Maggot Eye was nowhere to be seen. I entered first, boldly. Proudly. Stupidly.

The gnoll leapt from the shadows, barely missing me with a titanic stone hammer. I dove into the bones and rolled aside just as he slammed down his weapon where I'd been lying. With a battle cry, Mitexi and the imps entered the room, setting fire to our assailant in moments. I succeeded in climbing to my feet. The gnoll was resisting some of their spells, it appeared, and came rushing at me again, giggling in a high-pitched voice. I ducked a swing and unhooked the staff from my back. Fine. If he wanted to play rough, I could play rough.

A new curse suddenly materialized in my brain: Curse of Weakness. I laid it on Maggot Eye, and watched the muscles in his revolting arms shrivel. His next swing was almost too easy to dodge, and I countered with a wallop from my staff. The gnoll was starting to look worn out; bleeding wounds had appeared across his body. But even so, he continued relentlessly trying to pummel me, and I took a few good blows to the chest, causing me to cry out.

"Leave her alone!" Mitexi bellowed, launching a massive Shadow Bolt. It collided with the gnoll's head and kept going, taking the beast's slavering jaws with it. Maggot Eye fell to the floor, deader than at any previous moment.

"Thx," I sputtered, trying to catch my breath. Mitexi came to help me up, and the two of us hobbled out of the house. I felt better within a minute or so. No major damage. "Nice work in there," I told her.

She smiled back.. "Thanks. You too."

"Okay," I said, "on to… oh, hold on. The paw." I returned to the body of Maggot Eye and, using one of my fingernails, severed his hand. What an utterly putrid creature, I thought. And yet some part of me, some deep, dark part… was a bit hungry. I dug out a tiny chunk of flesh from his flank and held it between my cold fingers. What would Mitexi say if she saw me doing this? I looked left, then right… and that's when I spotted the chest.

It was a pretty sweet haul, all told. Mitexi was more than willing to split our spoils in a fair manner, so we divvied up the money in the chest. She took the enchanted gloves since she had no magical items, and I claimed the remainder of the goods—a Tirisfal pumpkin, some questionable cheese that I was still willing to eat, a flask of ruby-colored potion, and a bunch of Peacebloom. We stole out of Garren's Haunt and made for Faol's Rest, our second and final destination. So far, this was pretty easy. Would Captain Melrache go down in a similar manner?

We were soon to find out, for after half an hour of hiking, the tower at Faol's Rest rose in the distance, its top enshrouded in light gray fog. I spotted a number of Scarlet Friars and Neophytes milling about the area, some attentive, others slacking. If we played our cards right, we could make it around the foothills and approach the tower from the north, thus bypassing all the opposition. Mitexi agreed to the plan. We spent another few minutes clambering over stones to reach a vantage point. From here I could see through a large hole in the wall of the wrecked tower. Our quarry was inside. There was a doorway leading into the structure, watched over by two Scarlet Vanguards.

"Imps," I commanded, "you'll be on the left guard. Mitexi, you take the one on the right." I lowered my voice to a menacing rumble. "Leave Melrache to me." Seconds before giving the order to attack, I paused. Movement in the tower.

"Isn't that…?" Mitexi started.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "It is."

David Trias, currently Deathknell's most wanted, was coming down the stairs with a smug grin on his undead face. A red and white tabard hung about his torso, and alongside him strode a muscular human man with crimson armor on one shoulder and a large, curved axe strapped to his back. They were talking in low voices. I couldn't make out the words.

"What should we do?" Mitexi asked uneasily.

"Let's wait," I answered, narrowing my eyes. "We'll see what happens." David and the man reached the bottom of the staircase. Captain Melrache gave them a stiff salute—so David was his superior now. Interesting. Something even more fascinating happened next: David took a few leaves of paper from his tunic and handed them to Melrache. The Captain glanced at them, nodded in approval, and saluted again. David and his burly associate left the tower out the front entrance, and soon the sound of hoofbeats filled the air. They were gone.

"We've _got_ to get those papers," I told Mitexi hurriedly. "Stick to the plan. Let's go!" I fired off two Curses of Weakness, crippling the Vanguards. Melrache heard the commotion and rushed out, just in time to see a Shadow Bolt flying at his face. He dodged. Hm, not bad. I let my teammates handle the Vanguards while I began my rotation of spells against the Captain, most of which he shrugged off. The sword in his hands gleamed in the fading light of the afternoon as he rushed toward me, shield raised. I darted away, throwing spells over my shoulder. Bastard was _fast_.

Needed a diversion. C'mon Silina, what do you have for me? Anything? Yes… a mumbled incantation. I could sense its power. This spell would cause an icy chill to run down the spine of the afflicted. Before their eyes would dance the stuff of nightmares: monsters, ghosts, all manner of terrifying experiences from life and childhood. I whirled and faced the Captain. He seemed undeterred by my sudden tactical shift. No matter. He would soon know _Fear_.

I rattled off the Demonic words with ease and sent him into a haze of horror. In seconds he was running from me as fast as he could, and I fired a hail of Shadow Bolts after him, shattering his legs. He fell. I strode calmly to his crippled form.

"Please," he groaned in surprisingly good Gutterspeak, eyes wide with fright as he stared up at me. "Spare me!"

"Scarlet filth," I spat. "Burn in the Nether!" A quick blast of Immolate, followed by Conflagrate. His chest exploded. I turned away, feeling the satisfying splatter of blood and flesh against my cheek. Another foe defeated.

"Blight!" Mitexi called. She hustled over. "Nice job!" She stared at the exposed innards of the former Scarlet Captain with… oh, yes. Excellent. I knew that look quite well.

"Hungry?" I asked her, gesturing downward.

She gawked at me, wide-eyed. "W-w… what?"

I paused. "Don't tell me you aren't thinking about it?"

Mitexi made a conflicted face. She looked at me, then at the steaming body, then at me again. "But… should we?" Her features twisted as she fought an internal struggle. "I mean, I've considered it before, but… I don't know Blight, I just… it's… it's so _inhuman_."

I knelt down, beckoning for her to join me. "Mitexi," I said gently. "We're _not_ human. Not anymore."

She smiled uneasily at me. "I guess you're right."

I reached into Melrache's torso and—with a few quick slices from my claws—extracted the man's heart. I severed the left ventricle. "Here, try this." She took it and slid it tentatively into her mouth. _Chomp_. Her orbs grew wide.

"Oh wow… that's unbelievable…" She held out a shriveled hand. "Pass me another piece of that heart." I did so. "Mm, gods… I can't remember anything ever tasting this good," she moaned happily. "Guess I'm a cannibal through and through."

I winked at her. "Now you're talking like a Forsaken."

* * *

I slammed the bloody, severed head of Captain Melrache onto the table alongside Maggot Eye's filthy paw. Executor Zygand slowly lowered his tankard of ale, and turned a very surprised face toward me. The Tavern had gone quiet. Everyone was watching Mitexi and me as we stood confidently beside the Deathguard and his friends.

"That'll be a gold each, if you please," I said coolly. Zygand looked down at the two disembodied appendages again, then back up at me, then back down again.

"Ahem," Mitexi added. Good girl. She was getting the hang of this.

Without a word, Zygand slowly reached into his coinpurse, extracted two glistening gold pieces, and laid them on the table. Then he grabbed his mug and returned to drinking. Mitexi and I took our money and left the Taven quickly, strutting a little as we exited.

"Bad _ass_!" Mitexi exclaimed as we got outside. "Man, that was awesome!"

I grinned at her. "Damn right. I think we taught him an important lesson today, my friend." I jiggled the Scarlet documents I was carrying in my hand. "Now, shall we see about these papers?" We made our way to the town hall and marched confidently up to the raised desk at the far end of the room, amidst turning heads and murmurs of protest.

"Magistrate Sevren?" I asked purposefully.

The stately Forsaken man at the desk looked up at me slowly. "And just who might you be?" he questioned, putting down the sheet he was holding. "I'm very busy, you know."

"I'm Blightfire," I replied. "This is my friend Mitexi. We're here on a matter of urgency regarding the Scarlet Crusade."

He sighed. "Yes?"

I placed the papers on his desk, knocking over a small stack of documents already piled there. "I think these will be of interest to you."

Sevren picked up the papers, slid a monocle over one eye, and studied them for a moment. "Hmm… oh, interesting… uh huh… right." He set them down. "You did well to bring these to me. Where did you acquire them?" I explained our combat with Captain Melache. "I see. You recognize this seal, then? On the bottom?"

I nodded. "Emblem of the Trias family. I've seen it before." I mentioned that we'd seen him at the tower.

"Indeed. Word was sent from Deathknell a few days ago to be on the lookout for that traitor. Thanks to your efforts, it would appear that an opportunity to capture him may soon arise." Sevren quickly scribbled some notes on a blank sheet and melted a bit of wax onto the bottom. He pressed his signet ring into the molten goo, sealing it.

"Sir?" I commented.

"Take this," he instructed, handing me the Scarlet papers and the freshly sealed memo, "to the Rogues' Quarter of Undercity, and show it to Carolyn Ward. She'll give you further instructions." He sat down again and picked up his work, clearly indicating that our conversation was over. Although I felt a bit irked by his rude dismissal, I kept my mouth shut and began to walk away. "Oh, and Blightfire?" Sevren called after me.

"Yes?"

"Good work out there."

"Thank you Magistrate." Mitexi and I left the building feeling slightly discouraged. No parade? No party in our honor? No phat lewtz? The citizens of Deathknell were a lot more grateful when I put an end to _their_ Scarlet problem.

"Guess we should get to Undercity," Mitexi said absentmindedly.

"Yeah. Let's close up our tab at the Tavern." We ventured inside and found Renee. She was more than happy to take what we owed her. As we were about to leave, she caught me by the shoulder.

"Did you still want to start growing that Squashling?" she asked me earnestly. A small pouch full of soil was produced from her pocket. "I've already got the supplies ready. Just put the seed in here, water it twice a day, and you'll see it bloom in no time."

I agreed to the transaction and affixed the pouch to my travel bag. Caring for a plant wasn't exactly the most thrilling pastime I could think of, but it would be interesting to see what came of it. Mitexi and I left the tavern with a smile and a wave. We now stood on the packed dirt road, which gave way to cobblestones a few dozen yards ahead. Brill was at our backs.

"So… are we set?" Mitexi asked me earnestly. "I'm really excited to get to Undercity! I haven't been there since… well, since it was Lordaeron."

"Yes, I'm ready," I murmured, again lost in my thoughts. We were making a name for ourselves, that much was clear. But I didn't feel any closer to my goal of finding Dystressi, or understanding what my connection was to her. Perhaps some clues were waiting in the Forsaken capital, the hub of Horde activity and culture in this part of the world. If anyone had information on the comings and goings of rogues like Dystressi, it'd be someone in the Rogues' Quarter. Silina, my past self, was also nagging at my thoughts: How had I become undead? Who was I before? Judging by the dream I'd had a few days ago, I must've been someone relatively important, and a member of the Alliance to boot. Was the Alliance searching for me? What had I left behind?

For now, I had little choice but to continue down this path. The answers to my questions would present themselves eventually. Until then, I settled upon ambitions befitting someone of my natural talent: regain my lost skills, the spells I'd known as Silina; obtain the level of prestige fitting for a Forsaken of my high intellect and ability; learn to summon all manner of demons, and even bend the very forces of the Fel itself to my will.

I wanted to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies.

I wanted to command respect, through any means necessary.

I wanted to control all those who would _dare_ to stand against me.

Maximillion was right. I _did_ have a lust for power.


	9. A Gatherin' of Spirits

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 9 – A Gatherin' of Spirits

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: KATYAA

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

Da spirits was restless dat day. I could feel it in my bones from da moment I woke up, on da whispers and in every rock beneat my back. Dose crazy crystals were still hummin' away, glowin' like dey got da right. Weird shit in dis crater, mon. Real weird. I stumbled out of da cave with collu'd lights in my eyes, blinkin' and tryin' ta adjust to da bright sunshine of da early mornin'. Spark Nilminer gave me a look up and down, which I ignored. Creepy little goblin been chekin' out ma curves eva since I be arrivin' at Marshall's Refuge.

"Hey dere Nergal," I groaned at a black-bearded dwarf standin' nearby. Nergal turned to face me and tipped his wide-brimmed hat, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Mornin' Katyaa," he replied. "The usual for ya?"

"You betcha," I grunted back, rummaging in my pack for a few pieces of silver. I passed da coins to Nergal an' received a handful of steamin', aromatic slices of roast dinosaur meat, along wit' a flask of moonberry juice an' a boiled rapta' egg. Mm, dat be da good stuff mon! I ate my breakfast while sittin' on a small ridge overlookin' da crater. Day tree out here. Maybe I'd finally find what I'd been sent ta get: a glimpse of da elemental invadas Vol'jin spoke of.

"Go, Katyaa," he'd said. "Deep in da southern lands, you be findin' a high, firey mountain. And on dat mountain, you be seein' da lords of flame, comin' from da elemental planes. Gather whatever you can about dere plans, and bring back some embas from dere portals. I be needin' 'em ta commune wit da spirits of dat place."

I remember givin' him a salute and leavin' Grommash Hold. Vol'jin always be rewardin' me well for my services mon. Plenty of gold in my pockets. Dat was how I got da magical chain mail hung round my pale blue skin, and da enchanted clips in my orange hair. But da weapon at my side… dat one was all me. I studied it a moment as I finished off da last of my dinsour flank, remeberin'.

Dose naga din't know what hit 'em. Up by a secret altar on the coasts of Strangletorn Vale… dat be where I found dis mace. Oh sure, it was hidden in a concealed alcove, and sure I had to fight off a dozen naga, but I got it in de end mon. All glowin' white and silver it be. Just holdin' it made me feel powaful like I neva did before, mon. I took it to da eldas in Tunda Bluff, and dey be tellin' me it was an ancient weapon of da Highbourne. Da Ardent Defenda, dey called it. Sho had saved my skin enough times mon.

My otha weapon was a plain dagga. No frills, no trills. Just kills, mon. Dat be my game dese days: killin' raptas, dinosaurs, tar monstas, and anyting else dat get in my way down dere in da crater. I stood and packed up my gear. Time ta get ta work. Da day wasn't gon last forever. I located Gryfe and tossed 'im a few coppa for takin' care of my mount.

"He was no trouble at all," he squeaked at me in his high goblin voice. "And thanks for the tip!" I nodded at 'im.

"Don menchan it." I hopped astride the turquoise rapta and kicked it forward. We was out ridin' across da tar pits in no time. Da rapta—I'd named 'im Lar'korwi—was cool to da touch, even as he carted me across mile afta mile of rugged jungle tarain. Afta just an hour or so, we was nearin' Fire Plume Ridge, mon. Da hottest spot in da crater, and probably da most obvious invayshan point for flame elementals. I knowed where I be goin' dat day. Top of da peak. I'd seen a cave dere last time I was here, but it'd been too late ta go yesterday. Today I'd go. Today I'd find dem elementals.

I left Lar'korwi at da bottom of da ridge, makin' sure ta keep his whistle close at hand so I could call for 'im if I needed to, and dropt a sentry totem just in case I be needin' ta see what was goin' on down here. Den up I climbed, weavin' true da cliffs, feelin' da heat of da volcano all around me. I soon reached da top, and dere it was: da cave I'd been seekin', mon! I quickly made my way inside.

It was warm like da breath of a dragon, and darker den a starless night. I caught sparkling reflections in da distance. Torchlights? No… guards. A blazin' invada stood watch at a choke point. He was a tall, brilliant green being wit' huge shouldas and a tiny body. A pair of bracers hung at his wrists. I watched him carefully, plannin' my move. Had ta time it right. Da invada turned his back, and I lunged out, strikin' wit da fury of da storm, mon!

My weapons crackled with lightnin', sendin' a shock true da green menace. I true down a totem, feelin' ma strent and agility increase. Den anotha, ta ground out da sichuashun, mon. Good ting too: da invada began castin' a fireball, and let it fly. My totem caught the ball and disappeared from da hit. Meanwhile, I blasted da elemental with a frost shock. A few more swings and he was down for da count. I brushed da singed bits offa my armor.

Now movin' ahead, I saw an opening in da cavern, and went to it. Overhead da sky was visible true a wide openin' in da stones. Ah, so dis was what dey was doin'. Dis was what Vol'jin wanted me ta find. I crouched down by a big rock and be listenin' and watchin'. I could see a big glowin' portal, green like nothin' else in dis land. Dat was where I be needin' da ashes from.

"The foothills of this peak are already ours," one of da invadas—dey all looked simila', with wispy tails and waves of heat—rumbled. He was speakin' in da tongue of da flames, but I knowed dis tongue mon. Da spirits of fire whispered da words ta me.

"Excellent. Baron Charr will be most pleased," anotha replied. Two more was wanderin' in da area, Four in all. Could I take four of dem? I shuffled da items in my pack a bit, tinkin'. Maybe. I'd need ta use… and I'd have ta have… but yeah, I could do it. C'mon spirits, don fail me now!

I leapt ova da rocks and slammed my weapons down on one of dose ugly heads. Da invada screeched as my Defenda emitted ice and froze his body. I true down totems: Strent of da earth, Flametongue, windfury, and a cooling water totem ta make me resistant ta da fires. Sho enuf, fireballs came my way. I dodged one but took a hit from anotha. Hot! Da totem cooled me down. I struck like a storm, callin' out to da spirits ta bring forth my otha weapon: Spirit Wolves!

Two blue beasts appead, barkin' and growlin'. Dey leapt on da elemental I was hittin', and each bite dey took filled me wit da powa of da spirits. I called out a command, and gained de ability ta run fasta den da wind. Wit dis speed, mon, I brought down da first invada in no time, and turned ta da othas. One of 'em went in da portal. Cowad! Da otha two comin' at me, mon, and I be knockin' 'em left an right, frost shockin' and stormstrikin'. My wolves tore dem apart. Da invadas was dead in no time, and da spirits called back dere canines. I quickly cast a healin' wave ova myself. Ah, much betta mon.

Movin' speedy, I scooped up da ashes from da base of da portal. Dey be safely stowed in my bag. Dat should be enough for Vol'jin ta work wit, I figured. Now, anyting else I should be seein' before I go? I studied da portal carefully. Lookin' like a standard deal here, nothin' too special about it beyond da fact dat it led to Deepholme or sometin'. I din't know da planes too well, but I knowed enough to realize I was unlikely to wanna be stuck in dat kinda place.

Alas, da spirits had otha plans, mon.

As I began ta walk away, a big glowin' arm burst from da portal and snagged me round da torso. Dis was a _huge_ arm I be talkin' bout. In seconds I was pulled true da portal, kickin' and screamin'. I cried out as da heat of da place intensified, and gasped as hot air rushed into ma lungs. De elemental plane of fire, or wherever I was, sho din't seem accomadatin' ta mortals like myself. I managed ta toss down a fire resistin' totem, which helped a little as I caught a quick glimpse of my surroundin's.

We was still atop a peak, but da sky overhead was red with flames. Da rock at my feet was black obsidian, forged by volcanoes, and in every direction flowed lava and brimstone. We was near a big alta, ova which floated da portal. Around me hova'd a dozen invadas or more, and da biggest of deese was holdin' me in his fist. He had special bracers and a weird gleam in his black eyes.

"Baron Charr," one of da elementals hissed. "This is the creature I spoke of."

"Ah!" Charr scorched. "She does not pose a threat. I will dispose of this insect. Then the invasion can begin!"

"I don be tinkin' so, mon!" I snapped back. _Crack!_ A bolt of chain lightnin' burst from ma hands, shockin' da elemental and several othas nearby. He dropped me, and I added a splash of frost shock ta da mix, allowin' me a brief moment ta dash for da portal. Dey was hot on my heels! I quickly slammed an earthbindin' totem down, causin' dem ta slow ta a crawl. With dey so delayed, I made it ta da portal an leapt true. My body tingled wit magic enagy.

Ah, nice ta be back in Azeroth. Da heat seemed trival now. I quickly true down a few more totems, knowin' I was in for a fight. Sho enuf, Baron Charr an tree minions erupted from da gateway, shootin' fireballs and genrally makin' a ruckus. Well, dey on my turf now. Dey gon see da powa of da spirits, mon! I fired off anuda chain lightnin' and changed da charge on ma weapon, makin' it icy cold. Dey be feelin' da frostbite now! I was a whirlwind, strikin' like da storm's fury an cuttin' down da elementals wit no mercy.

Ma good luck din't last long. Baron Charr unleashed a wall of fire, sendin' me tumblin' back. I was on ma feet right quick but he was dere with his giant fist, pummelin' me into da wall. I cast a wave of healin' on myself, restorin' a bit of my strent, but it was lookin' grimmer by da second. I'd hafta run. Dis invada was too strong fo me. I tried to wriggle free. Oh no. I was pinned down! I couldn't find a way out!

"Haha!" Baron Charr cackled. "No escape! Our flames will consume you, mortal!"

Tings was lookin' bad. Real bad. A course, dat was da moment da spirits decided ta play games with me, mon.

Slowly, like leaves tumblin' down from da treetops, I saw two figures descendin'. Between firey punches to da face, I made out what sort of beings dey were: one was light blue, with horns and hooves, like some kinda vertical gazelle, but clearly smarter den dat. She was wearin' robes an' a tabard—da Violet Eye, I be tinkin'. De otha was clearly Forsaken. She had blades at her sides and black leather clothes. Her hair was dark pink, spikey, and her eyes was yellow glowin' spots like bits of da sun. Dey both floated in from above, lookin' a bit terrified an confused. But when dey landed, well, tings got dicey.

Da blue one created a blizzard, quickly destroying da two small elementals. Meanwhile, da Forsaken drove her daggers inta Baron Charr, causin' him ta groan in pain. He let me go and I quickly restored ma life with healin' waves. Den I rejoined da fray, pummelin' da invada with reckless abandon. We was doin' real damage now, mon!

"Enough! You haven't won yet, mortals," Baron Charr finally cried. "This isn't over!" He cast a blast wave outward, causin' us all ta go flyin'. Den he was gone true da portal, an' it closed up behind like a window slammin' shut. I stood on da warm stone, pantin' and bleedin'. My two rescuers were watchin' from nearby, actin' all shy like dey din't want to know who da hell I was or what was goin' on.

"Tanks," I said genuinely. I gave da blue one a small wave. "Who you be?" She studied me curiously. Da Forsaken also looked at me oddly, and din't seem ta understand what I'd said. I saw dem converse wit each otha. Dey be tinkin' if dey wanna talk back or not?

After a moment, da blue one spoke in strained Orcish, "I is… am Spectress. This is Dystressi. Who are you?"

"My name be Katyaa," I answered. "Shaman of da Horde." I gave dem a salute.

Spectress muttered sometin' to Dystressi—translatin', maybe. "Katyaa. Hello." She performed a small bow. "Nice to have met you… to meet you."

"Where da hell you come from, mon?" I asked cavalierly. "I really owe ya one! Dat was Baron Charr, a powerful elemental lord, comin' ta invade dis mountain. Good ting you showed up, or I'd be toast."

Spectress nodded. "Interesting. Where are we?" She turned and translated to Dystressi again, who also nodded and smiled at me.

"Dis be Fire Plume Ridge, in Un'Goro Crater, Kalimdor."

Spectress held up a hand. "Hang on a second." She turned and mumbled some incantation. A tiny, blue eye appea'd above Dystressi's head, and her eyes glowed a little bit brighter. "Okay. We're from Dalaran. Do you know where that is?"

"I be knowin' dat," I answered. "You be pretty far from dere now, mon."

"Don't I know it," she said glumly, eyes downcast.

"We're not exactly welcome there right now," Dystressi added, her Orcish also spotty at best.

"Well, where are ya headed, den?" I asked. Spectress turned to Dystressi. Dey had a quick conversation in dere strange language, while I continued healin' myself and dem with little bursts of nature magic. After a time dey be comin' back ta da conversation.

"We need to get to the Plaguelands near Lorderon, in the Eastern Kingdoms," she informed me.

"Plaguelands?" I questioned. "Dat be quite some distance, mon! You sure you be wantin' ta go all da way out dere?"

They both bobbed their heads eagerly. "We have business to attend to," Spectress told me. "You seem friendly: can you show us the way? We don't know this 'Un'goro' you spoke of."

I tot dis ova. If I be helpin' dese two, where dat be gettin' me, mon? But den again, I owed 'em. Dey saved me from dose elementals. And I din't hafta take 'em all da way to dose far-off lands. Dey could be takin' a zeppelin from Orgrimmar. Dat would work fine. I was goin' dere anyway.

"Okay, I be helpin' ya," I said. "Come with me. We be goin' ta Orgrimmar." Da two of 'em followed closely as I led 'em down da hills. We crossed da distance in no time, and I whistled for ma raptor. Spectress let out a surprised shriek when he be poppin' outta da trees.

"Is that… beast yours?" she stammered. I noticed a strange fear in her eyes.

"Ya, dis be Lar'Korwi," I announced, pattin' his flank. "But since you two don have mounts, I hafta be walkin' him across da crater."

Dystressi was also studying Spectress with a curious look in her eye. She mumbled sometin', and da blue one shook her head. Hm. What was dey talkin' about? Well, anyway, no time ta be tinkin' bout dat: we was on our way back ta da city. It'd be a long journey, mon. Maybe I be learnin' sometin from dese strange bein's on da way. I'd neva seen anyting like Spectress before.

We hiked across da rollin' jungle, fendin' off wild dinosaurs and primal oozes. Spectress and Dystressi din't talk ta me much, but dat wasn't really a problem; I was useta flyin' solo. Jus' me an da spirits, mon. Dey be showin' me all kinda tings out here. On a whim, I decided ta share ma tinkin' with ma companions.

"You know dis crater," I began, "it be a special place, mon."

Dystressi perked up. "Oh?" I noticed den dat Spectress be walkin' on da far side of her, well away from Lar'Korwi. Every time she be lookin' ova, she get dat fear in her eyes. Maybe she be scared of 'im?

"Da spirits has whispered stories ta me," I continued. "Dis crater… da ancients who built our world, dey be usin' it as a special test grounds, mon."

"Is that so?" Dystressi replied.

"And dere be anudda place, mon. Nort a here. Nortrend, I be tinkin' dey say. Anotha valley just like dis one."

"Very fascinating," Spectress commented, glancin' nervous-like at ma rapta.

"Dere be a lot a mysteries in dis world," I added. "A lot a tings only da spirits know."

Dystressi had turned away from me and was lookin' ahead. "Is that the way out of here?" she be askin', pointin'.

Sho enuf, she'd spotted da windin' pat we need ta be takin'. "Ya mon, dat be our way out!" We hiked ova and started up da path. As we walked, I offaed Dystressi an Spectress a bit of dried dinosaur meat, which dey both ate hungrily. Dey tanked me, and we continued upward. I fell in step behind Dystressi, and dats when I be noticin'…

"Dat mark on your neck," I said kinda mysterious-like.

Dystressi froze, causin' me ta almost run inta her. She spun quickly and walked up close ta me. Now I could see her even clearer: smooth, unblemished gray skin, with bones showin' at her shouldas and elbows. A couple a earrings hangin' from her lobes. And where eyes shoulda been, only yellow spots, empty holes behind.

"You know this symbol?" she asked eagerly. "Where? How? Who?"

"Whoa! Take it easy, mon," I answered, puttin' up ma hands. "I just be rememberin' seein' it before."

She din't back down. "Where? When?"

"Um," I be tinkin' aloud, "I don rememba. I just know it be familiar." Looking discouraged, Dystressi returned to marchin', mumblin' sometin' ta Spectress.

Dis was turnin' into quite some journey, mon. So she din't seem ta know what da symbol was either. Interestin'. And sometin' else was on ma mind: dey said dey wasn't welcome in Dalaran. Why? Especially if da blue one be workin' for da Kirin Tor… was dey in trouble? Quite possible. Dey be floatin' down outta da sky in a panic, like dey runnin' from someone. Fugitives, den. On da lamb. _Very_ interestin'.

Afta an hour or so of switchbacks, we be comin' up on two obelisks. Just da markers I be lookin' for. "We're outta Un'Goro," I announced.

Spectress let out an excited cheer, and Dystressi smiled. "Fantastic! So this is Orgrimmar?" She gestured at da hill we was climbin'. Heh. She couldn't see ova da top of it, but if she had, she wouldn't be askin' dat mon.

I chuckled. "Sorry, no." We crested da hill. Before us stretched mile afta mile of endless, rollin' dunes, all hot and sandy like dey be havin' a grudge against water. To da south was some big cacti, and dat was where I was gon take dem ta fill our canteens. But our destination be to da nort.

"Oh great," Dystressi moaned when she be seein' what lie ahead.

"Where are we?" Spectress asked uneasily.

I smiled as I stared out ova da sands wit my two strange companions at ma side. "Dis be da Tanaris desert, mon. And we gonna become its close friends by da time we be reachin' our next goal: Gadgetzan."


	10. Undercity

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 10 – Undercity

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: BLIGHTFIRE

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

Our progress was swift. It took the better part of a day to reach Undercity from Brill, but we encountered no opposition and only a few scattered Forsaken travelers. The road wound though mile upon mile of misty trees. I didn't talk much; nothing to say, really, since I had no memories I could summon up and recount. Mitexi was a bit of a chatterbox though. She seemed much less nervous now than when we'd first left Deathknell. We had the good sense to keep our imps out, but with them phase shifted to the Nether, they were unable to speak with us. Not that they'd want to anyway. We didn't have much in common, demons and undead.

Mitexi's stories of life on a farm in the secluded southern regions of Lordaeron did little to improve my increasingly grim mood, however. What awaited us in Undercity anyway? Would we even get a chance to take on David Trias? And where the heck was I going to find Dytressi, if she'd managed to evade even the guards at Deathknell? I knew not. Mitexi sensed my glowering demeanor and slowly talked less and less, eventually withering into silence. The final leg of our journey was tensely quiet. But the sight of the grand city perked me up again, and I shared my excitement with my companion.

"It's really quite magnificent," I commented. We strode casually up a road flanked by Forsaken banners. The first courtyard had a dried-up fountain in it, surrounded by dead grass and rubble. High walls shielded us from the gray sunlight as we walked across the area. Up ahead, I saw a wooden bridge traversing a river of green slime. How delightfully icky.

"Gross," Mitexi said, as if translating my thoughts. She gestured downward. "That's nasty." I nodded in agreement. We made our way through some archways, past a large bell that had fallen down some time ago, and down a narrow hallway into the former throne room. I looked about in awe.

"Hold up," I whispered, causing Mitexi to pause. We stood still a moment. "Can you hear it?"

She looked at me curiously. "Hear what?"

I tilted my head, gazing around the room at the tiered balconies overlooking the throne. There was a tiny splatter of blood on the icy marble beneath the steps of the king's seat; I knelt and studied it. "It's almost like I can hear the murmurs of the court," I told Mitexi. "The whispers of the dead lords who used to sit in this room, making law." My voice was low and eerie.

She shivered. "Okay, you're creeping me out. Let's just keep going."

I sighed and smiled. "As you wish." We journeyed down several more hallways, past a raised tomb, and _by the Gods what was that thing?_

It stood ten feet tall and equally wide, with two massive arms and a third tiny one sticking from its shoulder. The head was a bulbous lump, the face distorted and clearly sub-human. In one arm the thing wielded a massive cleaver, and in the other, a spiked chain. The body of the beast was little more than a hodgepodge of random parts—intestines, skin, assorted muscles and other tissues—and the angles of the bones were highly irregular. The _thing_ grunted happily at us as we tentatively approached.

"_Glurgg_… little undeads welcome in Undercity! Take elevator to main chambers below!" it bellowed in a freaky, childlike voice.

"Uh… thanks," I mumbled. The creature—it could really only be adequately described as an abomination—gestured toward a large panel, which at that moment slid up, revealing a platform within. Mitexi and I quickly shuffled onto the circular area, and waited. I glanced upward. Spikes… interesting.

We descended quickly after a minute or so, and I felt the air grow even colder. Not that it much mattered, since cold was normal: it was akin to the difference between light and dark gray. We quickly left the elevator, hurried past two more abominations, and rounded a corner to find ourselves standing before a truly awe-inspiring sight. We'd arrived in Undercity.

The room extended outward in a wide ring, with multitudinous alcoves along the walls of our current floor. Large carved stone skulls hung like watchful gargoyles over a central chamber, in which stood three Forsaken and a blue specter of some kind. The middle was accessible via a set of stairs, and the stairs continued downward from there, first reaching two more platforms, then the lower ring. I could see more rivers of green slime traversed by bridges, and tunnels leading to other parts of the city, each demarcated with a colorful banner. The room buzzed with unlife, as dozens of Forsaken scurried around, going about their daily business. Some were adventurers like ourselves, but many more were humble workers and merchants, just making ends meet any way they could.

"C'mon," I said quietly to a dumbstruck Mitexi. "Let's go. We need to find-"

"The bank?" Mitexi interrupted, pointing. I followed her gaze: sure enough, the center chamber had a large sign that I'd failed to notice. Curious, we approached one of the Forsaken standing there. His orbs followed us from beneath two huge tufts of mottled purple hair.

"Mortimer Montague, Undercity banking services," he spouted. "What can I assist you with?"

Mitexi nudged me forward. Clearly her shyness was getting the best of her. "Yes," I began, "well, um. What kind of things do you offer?"

He sighed rather mournfully and rattled off an almost certainly memorized speech: "All Horde members receive free access to the bank from any Horde city. The Royal Undercity bank is magically linked to all banking services within the Horde, and a number of Goblin cities as well, so anything you deposit here—be it money or goods—can be magically transported to other banks in a matter of seconds. Your account is tracked through a two-step system: you will select an account password, which you must memorize, and a minor enchantment is placed on your body, which serves as a supplemental identification." He exhaled. "I assume you are new Forsaken from Deathknell?"

We both nodded. "Yes," I told him.

"Then," he continued wearily, "would you like to open accounts?"

I turned to Mitexi. "You wanna?" I was excited about this. A safe place to store things sounded pretty neat, and the fact that I could get to it from anywhere was mind-boggling. Mitexi seemed interested as well.

"Sure," she replied.

"We want to open accounts," I informed Mortimer.

He nodded. "A moment, please. There is some… paperwork." He uttered this last word as if it were tortuous to even consider saying, and disappeared into the chamber. After a few minutes he emerged again and beckoned Mitexi forward. She followed as he led her into the offices, and the two of them vanished again into the back of the bank. I waited, looking around as I did so. Where was the Rogues' Quarter? That should be our next destination.

"Your turn," Mitexi told me cheerily when she emerged a few minutes later. I instructed Quznam to wait and followed Mortimer. We weaved through a couple of hallways, allowing me glimpses of other offices occupied by Forsaken, ghosts, and little green creatures that I assumed were the Goblins he'd mentioned. We soon reached a tiny closet of an office, and Mortimer led me inside.

"Sex?" he asked flatly, gesturing for me to take a seat.

My eyes widened. "E-exuse me?"

He tapped his pencil against the desk. "Your sex? I need it for the forms."

"Oh. Female," I responded, a bit embarrassed at my initial reaction.

"Name?" he inquired.

"Blightfire."

"Any surname or previous names?"

I paused a moment. "No surname… but I was known as Silina in life." Saying the title made me shudder involuntarily; would I slip into another walking nightmare? Thankfully, my eyes stayed open, and the floor did not spiral away.

Mortimer either ignored or failed to notice my tension and continued: "Profession?"

"Adventurer," I answered, unsure of what else I could say.

"Class?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your training… what sort of fighter are you?"

"Oh! Warlock."

He mulled over the form in his hands, perhaps looking for anything else he needed to ask. "That's all I need from you for now. Please stand, and I'll perform the enchantment to bind your account to you." I rose to my feet nervously. Mortimer wiggled his fingers at me, producing no effect whatsoever.

"Anytime you're ready," I said. He cocked his head, and wiggled his fingers again, with the same result.

"Interesting. A moment, please." In a flash he was gone, out of the room. I remained standing, wondering uneasily what'd happened. Was I a wanted criminal, and he'd gone for the guards? Perhaps I should flee. No. Get a grip, Blightfire. If you run, you look guilty. Innocent people don't run.

Mortimer came back quickly with a ghost on his heels. The bluish creature glowed with an unearthly light; it looked like a finely dressed human man, but was see-through and hovered a few inches off the ground. "This is her?" the ghost asked.

"Yes sir."

The ghost studied me a moment. "Louis Winthorpe Montague the Third," he said, extending a spectral hand. I shook it. My fingertips tingled like they'd fallen asleep. "I'm the president of the Royal Undercity Bank." He gestured toward the seat again, and took one himself in Mortimer's chair. Mortimer, meanwhile, shuffled nervously from one foot to the other as he stood near the door. He appeared uncertain whether he should stay or go. "Blightfire is your name, correct?"

"Yes sir," I said politely.

"What we have here is a very unique case, Miss Blightfire." He gestured at the files on the desk. "As Mortimer informed me, you were—sit down, Mortimer!—known by another name in life, is that correct?"

Mortimer took a seat beside me, clearly relieved at having finally been given instructions. "Yeah," I told Louis.

He nodded. "Many of us changed our names after our demise, though those among us with, ahem, _family ties_ often retained our living titles. Still, it is infrequent that we have a situation such as yours." The ghost's tone was rather hard to read: was he amused? Filled with pity? Bored?

"Sir, with all due respect, what is my 'situation'?" I asked plainly.

He smiled. "Apologies for my lack of clarity." Louis shuffled the pages on the desk a few times. Finally, he looked me in the eye. "Miss Blightfire, to put it simply, you already have an account with us."

I stared back. "Pardon?"

"You have an enchantment on you that is linked to a bank account here."

What the heck did that mean? Had I been here before and forgotten about it? Then suddenly I recalled my dream, and the affiliation I'd had when I was alive. "Are you certain the account is not from a bank with the Alliance?" I asked.

Louis shrugged. "We cannot say for sure. You don't remember?"

If I'd still be able to do so, I would've blushed. "No, not really."

"I see. Well, be that as it may, two options now lie before you. You can either present the code for your current account and gain access to it, or you can close the old account and open a new one with a fresh password." I began to respond, but Louis continued, "Be warned: Any items in your existing account will become bank property if you open a new one." He smiled at me. "It is your decision, Miss Blightfire."

I gazed at him warily. Was he hiding something? That smug grin… did he know what was in my bank? But it mattered little: I didn't know the code. Without it, I couldn't get at whatever items my past self had left behind.

"I will think about it," I informed Louis, "and come back at a later time with my decision."

He rose and bowed. "As you wish. Thank you for banking with Royal Undercity, and apologies for the inconvenience." He handed me a small scrap of paper. "My card, should you require me in the future. Present this, and I will attend to your needs." I thanked the ghost, and Mortimer escorted me out.

"What took you so long?" Mitexi asked worriedly.

"It was nothing," I answered, quickly scribbling _Password! _on the back of the card with a pen to remind myself why I was carrying it. "Minor banking glitch. I'll deal with it later. Let's find the Rogues' Quarter."

We left the central tier and headed for a lower wing. On a whim, we chose the purple banners. They were the prettiest. Mitexi and I rounded a bend and found ourselves facing a river of green sludge. She made a gesture of sticking her finger in her throat, which caused me to chuckle. As we scanned the area, I spotted something promising: a wide space over a bridge, in which stood a number of Forsaken wielding daggers. Rogues? We made our way over and inquired as to the whereabouts of Carolyn Ward.

"Who wants to know?" the first Forsaken we approached snapped.

"Um… no one," I replied, moving to a nearby female Forsaken. She had a crop of brilliant purple hair in spiked dreadlocks and a few pustules of plague on her forehead, just above each eye. Although her skin was scarred from many battles, she had a deceptively kind smile.

"I am Carolyn Ward," she informed us cheerfully. "What can I do for you?" She inspected our gear. "You're dressed rather oddly for Rogues."

"We aren't Rogues," I quickly corrected. "We come bearing news from Tirisfal Glades."

She nodded. "What's the word?"

I extracted the missive from my pack and handed it to her. "Papers from Magistrate Sevren in Brill."

Carolyn snatched them from my hand and studied them carefully. "Hm," she murmured after a minute or so. "I see." She sighed. "David Trias was one of our best. Real pity to see him defect like this. Can't say I know what drove him to it." She stowed the documents in her vest and turned to watch a nearby Rogue practicing his finishers.

Mitexi and I shot each other a look of impatience. "So?" I asked. "What do we do now?" I tapped my foot.

Carolyn looked me up and down. "What do _you_ do? I haven't the slightest idea. The Shadowstalkers will see to this matter as soon as we have the personnel available. In the meantime, we'll allow David Trias to think he's gotten away with joining the ranks of the Crusade."

I was stunned. Her elitist tone was beginning to make my blood run a bit hotter. "Wait… so our part is over? We don't get to take on the traitor?"

Carolyn smirked at me. "What, you think _you two_ can handle this mission? The assassination of a powerful Rogue deep within enemy territory?" I wanted to rip that condescending grin right off her self-satisfied face.

"Yes!" I shouted. "Mitexi and I are more than capable of managing this with a little backup to assist us!" I was indignant: this Rogue seemed to think I was nothing more than a child. I'd show her. _Little girl_, indeed. We'd see.

Carolyn remained stonefaced. "Do you realize, _Warlock_," the word practically gained spikes as it flew from her mouth, "how dangerous a mission this is? We need a team of extremely geared and experienced fighters if we hope to stand a chance against him. We need people who are operating on a whole other plane."

"I-"

Carolyn shook her head. "I'm afraid you and your friend simply aren't quite at a high enough level for this quest," she informed us stoically. "You'll need to train more before you'll be strong enough to take on Trias and whatever Scarlet minions he's amassed for himself."

I scoffed. "Fine. Any idea where we can do that?"

Carolyn pointed down the outer ring of the city. "Two quarters that way. You'll want to see Kaal Soulreaper, an orc who lurks around the Temple of the Damned." She smiled apologetically at me. "Best of luck. Come back when you're a bit stronger, and maybe we'll see about letting you spill the blood you seem to crave."

Before turning to go, I remembered something important. "Carolyn?"

"Yes?"

"Ever heard of a Rogue named Dystressi?"

Carolyn eyed me, slightly confused. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering." I snagged a rather bewildered Mitexi by the arm and led her in the direction Carolyn had pointed. Not high enough level for that quest, were we? We'd see about that. She'd be eating those words when we brought back David Trias's head!

"Blight, you've _really_ got to stop talking back to superior officers," Mitexi scolded me uneasily. I glanced at her; poor girl was even paler than usual.

"Sorry Texi. I just really gets me worked up when they treat us like we're kids."

Mitexi sighed. "I can see that."

We made our way around the outer ring, walking uncomfortably past more abominations and carefully avoiding the rivers of slime that seemed to be so popular in this gods-forsaken—haha, good one Blight—place. Soon we reached the Temple of the Damned, and located our green-skinned benefactor. He was clad in red and gold robes, and wielded a skull-topped staff in one hand. We approached him as he stood surveying the surrounding area.

"Lok'tar!" he greeted us. "More fresh demon-heads?"

"Uh… what?" Mitexi stammered.

The orc chuckled. "A nickname I have for our kind. The way of the warlock is serious business, but we can have fun now and again too, am I right?"

I cut in: "Yeah, yeah, great. Listen, Kaal is it?" He nodded with a toothy smile. "Right, well, anyway. Listen, I'm Blightfire and this is Mitexi. We're in need of some training."

"You've come to right place, demon-heads. I know much about the art of manipulating the energies of the Twisting Nether." His eyes seemed to glow with bright green light. "I can teach you… for a price."

Now the orc was talking my language. "What can we learn from you?"

He explained, "I will teach you how to summon two new demons from the Nether: the Voidwalker and the Succubus. In addition, I will show you how to perform more powerful versions of your existing spells. And, with my help, you may yet be able to learn how to create augmentative stones that can enhance your abilities even further."

"Intriguing," I replied coyly. "But what's the catch?"

"In the southern region of Silverpine forest, to the north of the cursed Pyrewood Village, you will find Shadowfang Keep. An aged human sorcerer by the name of Ashcrombe is interred in a prison cell there. I want you to kill him." Kaal studied my reaction grimly.

"That's it?"

He seemed surprised. "Yes. Bring me back his signet ring as proof, and I'll teach you the other spells I promised. For now, I can demonstrate for you the means to perform stronger spells, and one other important warlock skill: Life Tap." The orc led us to a small circular platform surrounded by emerald ooze.

"What's Life Tap?" Mitexi asked. I too wished to know, but somewhere inside I could already hear the echoes of the Demonic words. It was like I'd learned them in a dream.

"Life Tap," Kaal explained, "is an ability well-suited to the nature of the demon-head." He stood in the circle. With a quick grunt and the flick of his wrist, a puff of jade smoke swirled round his body. He winced. "L-life Tap," he repeated, "transforms a portion of your health into mana."

Mitexi gasped. "Wait, that… that's crazy!"

"That's _awesome!_" I interjected. Unlimited casting power, so long as my life force could be sustained. Mana when I needed it most. What was not to like?

"Come, I will teach you the words." We both joined him in the circle and repeated the phrase a few times. "Now, concentrate on the power of the Twisting Nether, and allow it to flow through you."

I cast the spell. My fingers twitched as the energy was sucked out of them, and for a brief second I felt a stinging explosion of blinding pain surge through every muscle and molecule of my body. I felt my eye orbs flicker, like a candle caught by a breeze. But then the ache subsided, and I could sense a greater focus in my mind. My vision grew temporarily sharper, like I was peering through crystal-clear waters. Yes… oh, what a _rush_. Mitexi cast the spell beside me. She squeaked when the pain hit, and looked a little queasy afterward. But I could see the twinge in her eyes; she'd enjoyed it too.

"Excellent. With this tool at your disposal, you should be well equipped to face the terrors of the Keep," Kaal announced. "Now, let's get your other spells upgraded." We dismissed our imps and spent a few hours learning the new versions of our existing repertoire: Shadow Bolt, Immolate, Curse of Agony, and Corruption. Kaal also taught Mitexi how to instill Fear, as I had done to Captain Melrache. He promised us further training when we returned from our mission, and bid us farewell as we made our way to the center ring of Undercity.

"Well, what next?" I asked Mitexi as we passed the bank. "Should we call it a night?"

She agreed wearily. "Yeah I'm beat. All that training was a lot of work." We located the Inn along the upper ring of the central quarter, and paid a few silver for a cramped room. The accommodations weren't exactly as high-brow as we'd come to expect.

"Coffins?" Mitexi grumbled indignantly, studying our beds with a disdainful eye. "As if we needed another reminder that we're dead."

"I dunno," I replied jokingly, "they're kind of cozy." I laid down in one. "Not too bad, really." She sighed and took the one beside me.

"Goodnight," Mitexi murmured, already drifting off.

"Night," I answered, shutting my eyes. But sleep did not come so easily for me. I tossed and turned, wondering many things. No news of Dystressi: did that mean she hadn't come through here? Where would she have gone? And David Trias: what was Carolyn's deal? We could handle the bastard. Furthermore, what exactly was I going to do next? The immediate future seemed, for the moment, decided; but after these matters were settled, then what? I'd have to start anew. An entirely different life than what I'd known before, although not knowing how things used to be made it difficult to compare. And a final worry: the bank. The most reasonable explanation was that my account from life as Silina had somehow persisted. But what was the _password?_ I finally feel into fitful rest.

During the night, I had a brief and strange dream (or memory; I couldn't be sure which). It began with me walking and gazing up at the star-studded sky above, painted deep purple and blue. On all sides of me towered huge, magnificent mushrooms, speckled with glowing violet spots and dripping with moisture. The marshy ground beneath my boots was sloppy and warm, with puddles of cool, standing water. The air smelled of plants and humidity. What was this place? I recognized the brilliant bands of color streaking across the evening sky: Outland.

At my sides marched the members of my squad: Pegy and the blonde were familiar, but I did not recognize the other two. One was a dark-haired human woman dressed in priestly robes. The other was a purple-skinned night elf, wearing decorated leather armor. As I watched, she transformed before my eyes, changing suddenly into a silver panther.

We hiked for just a moment or two before a titanic creature emerged from behind a nearby mushroom. It was easily twenty feet tall, with radiant turquoise flesh. The beast had three legs and a multitude of extraneous fins. It let out a piercing screech as we drew near.

"Orders, Corporal?" Pegy asked in her high-pitched voice. I looked around. When no one else answered, Pegy repeated the question, and I realized she was talking to me.

"Um…" I stumbled. Quick, how to respond? They were looking to me for leadership, but I had no idea what the hell was going on! "What do you recommend, uh…" I gestured at the blonde, "what was your name again?" Smooth one Blight. You'll get her name _and_ some advice.

The warrior laughed. "Oh Lina, quit goofing around. Lethyn Moonfire said we'd know Boglash by its blue coloring and extreme size. This beast seems to have both."

I nodded, a bit disappointed that she hadn't said her name. "Right, right. Okay, attack!" Pegy let out a whoop of excitement and scurried into the marsh, disappearing behind some low brush. The human woman cast a protective shield around the warrior, who was already charging up to Boglash, and the night elf-cat-lady—Druid, my senses told me—lunged forward, raking the towering beast across its spindly legs.

Just as I was about to cast a spell and enter the fray, I woke up. I was still lying in my coffin, thank the Gods. No sleepwalking tonight. I shut my orbs again and had no further dreams.

The next day Mitexi and I purchased a modest breakfast from the innkeeper—fungus and milk, the best way to start your day—before taking one final look at the city. We'd only been here less than twenty-four hours, and already we were venturing off again. I felt somewhat disappointed; there was much yet to see.

"Any last minute errands?" I asked.

"Nope. Let's go." We took the elevator back up and started hiking across the courtyard. Suddenly we heard voices speaking an unfamiliar tongue. "Intruders. Alliance maybe?" I whispered.

Mitexi nodded. "Could be." I readied my spells, as did Mitexi. No time to summon imps; we were on our own. Who was approaching? It sounded like it was coming from a corridor just over the top of a nearby terrace. My companion and I took up a position near the staircase, and waited. Three gorgeous, light-skinned humanoids came sauntering down the steps, chatting away in their peculiar language.

I popped from the shadows. "Halt!" I ordered. "What business do you have in Undercity?" I did my best to appear imposing.

The girls looked at me in utter confusion. One of them said something to the others, and took a step forward. "Greetings," she said cordially, in perfect Gutterspeak. "We mean you no harm. Do not be afraid."

"Who are you? And _what_ are you?" I demanded. I wasn't about to trust these strangers just on their word. Then again, this one before me—silky crimson hair and fluorescent green eyes over pouty red lips—did speak the Forsaken language. That was a good sign.

"I understand your confusion. We are Blood Elves. We are a young race that has only recently joined the Horde, so it's no surprise you're unfamiliar with our kind." She shushed the whispers of her companions. "My name is Iyania. These are my friends, Savenia," she pointed to the blonde, blue-robed elf at her left, "and Telisreyn," a gesture toward the brown-haired elf on her right. I spotted an imp at Telisreyn's feet. Iyania gave me a discreet bow and added, "We are pleased to meet you."

I lowered my guard a bit. Allies of the Horde? Well, if that were the case, then we had nothing to fear. Still, I was wary. I'd seen so-called "friends" of the Forsaken defect before, and I was in no mood to relive—re-unlive, as it were—that experience. "Greetings," I responded, performing a Forsaken salute. "I'm Blightfire."

"Mitexi," my friend added, saluting. Iyania translated what we'd said, and the three elves repeated the salute back to us.

"Sinu a'manore," Telisreyn added. I had no idea what that meant.

"Shush," Iyania scolded, silencing the girl. "You know they don't speak Thalassian." Telisreyn looked hurt.

"It's okay," Mitexi said with a kind smile.

Iyania inquired, "Where are you headed, adventurers?" We migrated down the steps and stood by the empty fountain in the square.

"We're going to Silverpine Forest!" Mitexi exclaimed before I could stop her.

"Sil'vap Ine?" Savenia cried happily, butchering the pronunciation. She rambled off something very long in Thalassian.

"It seems we were destined to meet, friends," Iyania informed us cheerfully. "Savenia and I are also going to Silverpine. Telisreyn is here to take a zeppelin down to Stranglethorn Vale."

I smiled as pleasantly as I could. Great. Now we had company. Well, a few extra blades couldn't hurt our chances… but all these complications were getting in the way of my real missions: finding Dystressi and getting revenge on David Trias. Who knew what these blood elves wanted? Their errands might take many extra days! _But hold on_, I said to myself, _they may prove useful_. It was true. Having more companions would give me an opportunity to learn from them. The extra time they'd take up was a price worth paying if it meant I could expand my powers.

"Perhaps we should all journey together?" I suggested, trying not to sound too icy.

Mitexi clapped her hands and let out an exuberant cry: "Oh, how exciting!" Savenia was jumping up and down enthusiastically, and the two girls grinned widely at each other as though they were old friends. Good. Finally, someone as chipper as Mitexi to keep her company. I really liked having the woman around, but she did have a habit of being disturbingly… upbeat.

Iyania discussed the matter with her companions for a moment before turning to face us once more. "It's settled, then," she informed me with a flicker of a smile. "We depart at once."


	11. Shadowfang Keepers

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 11 – Shadowfang Keepers

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: BLIGHTFIRE

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

The five of us—three blood elves and two undead—left Undercity in high spirits. It wasn't long before the path forked: one way led south to Silverpine, and the other up a small hill to a gargantuan tower, at which was docked a very curious floating ship. I assumed this was the zeppelin Iyania spoke of. Well, so much for the whole gang out on a grand adventure. Then again, three warlocks _was_ a bit much.

Telisreyn gabbed in rapid Thalassian to her companions, and each of them hugged her in turn. She gave us a brief salute, saying, "Al diel shala." Then she was gone, up the hill and into the tower. The three remaining members of our group followed me on the path southward; familiar tall pines appeared around us as we walked, and a calm fog settled in. Tirisfal at its best.

Behind me strolled Mitexi and Savenia. They were both trying to teach each other words in their respective languages, and giggling hysterically all the while. Good. Let them have their fun. I was striding alongside Iyania, who, to her credit, carried herself with poise unlike that of even the haughtiest Forsaken I'd met. This blood elf really thought a lot of herself. We'd see if she held her head quite so high when combat broke out.

"It's convenient that you and your friend were headed this way, and showed up when you did," I mentioned. "What's your business in Silverpine Forest?"

"We're seeking an artifact from Shadowfang Keep," she informed me casually. "You?"

"Same, in a sense," I replied. "That works out nicely."

"Yes… it does."

A pause. "Your Gutterspeak is surprisingly good. How'd you learn it?"

Although absolutely nothing changed in her pace or body posture, I could sense the very slightest bit of unease in Iyania's tone as she replied, "I studied amongst the Forsaken for quite some time, and came to know your tongue through extensive immersion."

"I see. What were you researching?"

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Rogue tactics." My eyes narrowed in suspicion. This elf was hiding something, I could sense it. But it would be foolish to alienate my recently acquired companion, so I said nothing further. The matter of her secrets could wait for a more opportune time, if the need even arose to learn them. We took to conversing about other matters: Horde politics (of which I knew little), our quests in the Keep (she was searching for a magical tome), and, because she asked, the finer points of being a Warlock (a topic which I was happy to discuss at length). In short order, the scenery around us began to change: we'd reached Silverpine.

It was similar to Tirisfal Glades, but the trees were thicker and older. The air smelt cleaner, like it hadn't been soaking at the bottom of a moldy barrel for centuries, and I could hear the gurgle of streams from the forest nearby. Gravel crunched beneath our boots as we hiked over mile upon mile of curving road. We passed many farms; most of these were abandoned now, or overrun with Scourge. At one point a large black wolf attacked us, but we were able to make short work of it. Eventually, our trail led to a split in the road.

"The Sepulcher," I read on the sign in the fading evening light. It pointed up a narrow hill to the west. "Sounds promising."

"After you," Iyania retorted, gesturing at the road. I took the lead and trekked upward, my breath starting to come faster as the incline grew steeper. After a few minutes, we reached a crest and found ourselves on a wide plateau nestled in the hills. The town wasn't a lot to look at, really, but at least we could find a hot meal—not that I much cared about the temperature of my food—and a comfortable bed—again, of little importance—to sleep the night in. Before us stretched a wide array of gravestones, arranged like dominoes. In the distance loomed a massive, ancient crypt with several Forsaken loitering outside.

"Hail," I said to the nearest one. He greeted me back and directed me to the tavern and inn within the tomb. The four of us strode into the cold underbelly of the crypt, taking in the atmosphere. Time to see what sort of place we'd be basing our operation out of, assuming this town was anywhere near Shadowfang.

"Anar'alah belore," Savenia muttered grumpily. She wrinkled her nose.

"This place is quite… unusual," Iyania added, her tone dripping with revulsion. Mitexi and I saw nothing out of the ordinary here: standard bar furniture mingled amongst the caskets; a dozen Forsaken seated in various places, some with severed Alliance heads on their plates; Hallow's End decorations dangling from the torch fixtures; and a giant… humanoid cow? Wait.

"Go ahead and find a table," I told the others. "I want to check something out." I approached the bovine. "Hello," I said confidently, unsure of what to expect.

He looked up from his brew and gave me a friendly nod. "Greetings, traveler. Looking for something special? Because you just found it." He winked at me.

I stared, stupefied. "What?"

He stood and performed a small bow, taking my hand and kissing it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, undead." His Gutterspeak was a little rough, but his accent was… enchanting.

I was taken aback. Who and what was this creature? He stood a foot or so higher than I, with shoulders as broad as I was tall, and creamy brown fur all over his visible skin. His armor was heavy chain, and I noted a wide shield at his back and a sword at his side. He had two curved black horns atop his furry head. His face was a snout, with a gleaming golden ring through the nostrils. I felt simultaneously disturbed and intrigued as I studied the beast.

"I'm Blightfire. Forgive my naivety, but what race of being are you?" I asked.

"I'm a tauren," he informed me casually. "Lonek's the name, here on assignment from Thunder Bluff in Kalimdor."

"Lonek," I repeated quietly. No recognition there, but… something about the name attracted me, enticing me to inquire further. "What're you seeking in Silverpine? We might be after the same thing."

He took a pull from his drink. "Shadowfang Keep. I'm to bring back the tooth of a particularly vicious worg from within the castle."

"Shadowfang, you mean?

"Aye."

"And what class are you?"

"Warrior, I specialize in protection."

I grinned wickedly. "How convenient. Care to join my friends and I at our table? We may have a proposition for you."

Lonek pondered this a moment. I gestured toward where the others were sitting and he spotted my three female companions, who were studying us curiously. "All right," he coyly replied, "but be warned: I just might be too much beef for you ladies to handle."

In no time I found myself playfully bumping elbows with Lonek and Mitexi, already a bit drunk. Lonek told the _funniest_ stories about life in his homeland of Mulgore, and Mitexi was her usual gossiping, giggling self. I spilled a drink in Lonek's lap, sending myself into a fit of uproarious laughter. I hadn't felt this relaxed in quite a while. Lonek was my kind of tauren: witty, powerful, and totally full of himself in an entirely charming way.

Our blood elf companions did not seem amused. Savenia seemed to want to join in the fun, but Iyania wasn't in the mood to translate, so the poor priest could only laugh when we laughed and smile brightly at us. Iyania looked more than a bit annoyed at our behavior. "Must you carry on like that?" she growled at Mitexi after the girl got into a mooing contest with Lonek.

"Lighten up Iya," I scolded playfully. "We're not going anywhere tonight… hic! Have a drink or shomething!"

She sighed, clearly vexed. "I will pass. I think perhaps Savenia and I should retire for the evening. We'll meet you outside at dawn, Blightfire." Iya growled something at Savenia, causing the girl to cringe, and the two blood elves rose. They departed swiftly, the sweet aroma of their skin trailing after them like a shadow. I rolled my eyes.

Lonek elbowed me again. "Shtiff bitchesh, eh?"

"They'll looshen up," I retorted, polishing off the remainder of my ale. "Now what were you shaying about shnapvine watermelons? …hic!" We passed another hour or so laughing, drinking, and telling jokes. This tauren was a very welcome addition to the group, and it didn't delay my plans in the slightest to bring him along for the ride. Mitexi whispered to me at one point that she thought he was cute. Oddly enough, I agreed.

The next morning, I met Lonek, Mitexi, Iyania, and Savenia outside the tavern, blinking in the orange light. I was the last one to rise, which surprised me since I was usually very punctual. Thank the Gods I wasn't hung over; I drank a _lot_ of ale last night. We checked our gear carefully. There would be no opportunity to resupply, and we wanted to take Shadowfang in one go. Better that than to give them time to call for reinforcements. Without having to say a word, the others looked to me as their leader. Fine by me. I worked best when I was in charge. As we milled about debating tactics for entry—Lonek wanted to storm the gates, but Iyania was pushing for a stealthy entry via the sewers—a bald, wrinkled Forsaken man approached me. His eyes were shielded by tacky pink goggles.

"Excuse me, miss," he groaned. "Karos Razok's the name. I overheard your conversation, and I'd like to ask a favor."

I nodded disdainfully him. "And that is?"

"I'm the bat handler here in the Sepulcher," he explained, motioning toward a large roost on the far side of the tombstones. "Recently, a few of my Deathstalker friends went to Shadowfang for a reconnaissance mission. They haven't returned. I was hoping you'd look for them."

I clicked my tongue. "And if we do?"

He held out a small metal device. "Take this flare gun. Should you require aid, simply shoot it into the sky, and help we come on swift wings."

"Hm," I grunted. Might be useful. We already had quite a laundry-list of tasks for this place. What was one more errand? "We'll seek out your friends. Their names and descriptions, please?" He told me the necessary information, and I reported this back to my group mates.

"Anu belore dela'na," Savenia told me. I assumed this was some kind of affirmation.

"I'm sure we'll find them," Mitexi said cheerfully.

Lonek chuckled. "As for how many pieces they'll be in, well…"

"_Can we_ _please_ get back to work on our _mission_?" Iyania snapped. She took a quick breath. "Apologies. I'm eager to get started, and daylight is wasting."

"Iya's right," I commented. "We need to finalize our plans." We discussed our various options, and settled on a compromise; we'd utilize a distraction and slip in the gates unnoticed. But how to cause a large enough commotion? No one seemed to have any ideas. Suddenly, Lonek produced an acorn from his travel bag and held it aloft for us to view.

"A gift from a druid friend back in Mulgore," he clarified. "This will animate a tree for a short period of time. We can command the tree to attack the castle walls, and we'll slip in while the guards fight it off."

"That's… a really good idea," Iyania said admiringly.

Lonek grinned at us. "What, you think because I'm a Warrior I can't form an intelligent battle plan?"

"It's settled, then," I stated firmly. "Let's get to work." We finished our preparations and set out. No more dawdling. It was time for Mitexi and me to fulfill our end of our bargain with Kaal, and thereby earn our chance to take on David Trias. As we left the Sepulcher and headed south, I could feel a steady breeze on my face, and I sensed that my goal of discovering my true identity was just a bit closer than it'd been before. This was what was meant to be. I found myself relishing the thought of the battles ahead. Sure, we'd be facing peril unlike anything we'd yet encountered, and yes, grisly death would be lurking around every corner.

But Gods, what a rush.

* * *

Hours later I found myself eating those words, in addition to a pawful of deadly claws as I failed to duck under a swing from a towering worgen. Black blood dribbled from a rip in my cheek. The wolfman snarled and swung again, but was blocked by Lonek's shield. I tossed myself backward to the stone, feeling Savenia's healing spell wash over my body and restore my torn flesh. Lonek blocked, spun, and delivered a devastating blow to the worgen's torso, causing the monster to yelp in pain. He held the beast at bay as Mitexi lit it up with flames and Iyania cut several chunks out of its spine. It was dead in short order.

"Another incoming!" Iyania cried, hurling a smoke pellet to the floor and vanishing. She reappeared behind the dark-furred worgen and delivered a cheap shot to its back, stunning it long enough for Lonek to get into position. We unloaded on the creature, tearing it apart in seconds. I almost felt sorry for them, these lesser worgen. They were no match for us, and hadn't been this entire time.

"This way," I said, pointing across the room. We'd have to weave up a staircase and through the loft to get to the other side. I spotted a few more wolves and worgen patrolling the upper walkways. We weren't out of danger yet. As we climbed the steps and readied ourselves for battle, I recalled how speedy our progress had been thus far.

Lonek's diversion with the tree worked like a charm, buying us plenty of time to enter the Keep. Our first target, Deathstalker Adamant, was being held in a prison cell adjacent to Sorcerer Ashcrombe, which Iyania easily lockpicked open. Two birds, one stone. I fingered the signet ring now adorning my left index knuckle, and grinned evilly. Old man never stood a chance. What had Kaal wanted him dead for? Didn't really matter: we were in the clear, and we'd be learning new spells when we got back. We found the second Deathstalker dead in the courtyard just minutes after breaking the first one out of jail. Adamant agreed to report this news to Karos, and fled the castle while we continued forward.

"Look out!" Mitexi shrieked as two spectral blue wolves lunged at Lonek. He held out his shield like a wall and soaked up their blows, while Iyania got into position. Quznam squawked at my side, preparing a fireball. Little pipsqueak had been quite a nuisance this entire trip, always running ahead and catching the attention of our foes. It was almost like he _wanted_ to get us killed.

His help had been invaluable later, however, when we faced off against that colossal worgen in the kitchen. Damn beast had a cleaver the size of a small dog, and he knew how to use it. Lonek took a few good whacks on that one. But we prevailed, and Iyania claimed the monster's weapon as her own. I remembered with a shiver the next room: all those dancing ghosts, spinning round and round like they'd forgotten the music stopped years ago. We exorcised them with the liberal application of magic and steel.

Quznam and I took down another worgen. We were nearly across the room now—just a few more flights of stairs. I thought about how much work it'd been to get this far, especially when we hit the library. Gods, what did the master of this keep need so many books for? We spent an hour in there searching for that stupid Book of Ur. Iyania and Savenia were quite overjoyed when they discovered it at last. Of course, it was resting amidst a pile of old scrolls and tomes, instead of being properly shelved, which is why it took so long to find. Damn messy librarians. Probably hard to pick up books with those claws, though.

Now our final goal loomed ahead: the obscenely large wolf Lonek had been sent to kill. The room he stood in was circular, with two entrances and a number of small wooden panels along the curved walls. We took up positions just outside the door, and all eyes turned to me for orders. "Lonek, you charge in first," I began. "Savenia, put a shield on him right before he goes. Iyania, I want you on the left flank. Mitexi and I will be on the right, with the imps. This is tank and spank folks, no frills or gimmicks! Just smooth execution. Ready?" My group nodded. "Charge!"

We piled into the room, shouting and whooping as our blood began to pump with adrenaline. Behind us, a massive steel portcullis clanked shut, and the air was suddenly rent by a piercing howl. An ambush? Sure enough, several other wolves burst from hidden alcoves. They leapt into the fray as Lonek stomped his powerful hooves down to create a shockwave. I shouted commands and warnings—"Texi, use Fear on that wolf! Iya, behind you!"—as we fought off the onslaught. One beast managed to break Lonek's defensive line and lunged toward me. I counterattacked with a Shadow Bolt right between its narrow eyes.

It was over quickly. Five wolves lay dead at our feet. Lonek extracted a skinning knife from his pack and, with practiced hands, removed the pelt of the largest beast. He also pried a ferocious canine tooth from its mouth, and stowed both objects in his pack. The group assumed a rough circle, and we all stared at each other expectantly.

"Right. Guess we're finished here," I stated.

"Finished? But you've only just begun!" a loud male voice bellowed. We looked upward toward the source, and spotted a tall man standing on a balcony above. He was clad in dark robes and had spiked shoulder plates towering beside each ear. A white cloth mask concealed his mouth and nose. "I, Archmage Arugal, have been watching your progress as you've wandered through my keep. And while I must admit you are strong, I think you'll find you've met your match in this next challenge." He raised his voice to a thunderous bellow. "Sons of Arugal! Time for dinner!" The portcullis on the far side of the room—opposite where we'd entered—slid open.

"Get behind me!" Lonek roared, readying his shield and sword. Three colossal worgen came stampeding into the room, globs of hungry saliva dripping from their gnome-sized maws. The trio pounced on Lonek immediately, and it was all he could do to stave off even half of their swings. I threw curses and shadow bolts into the mix as best I could, while Texi did the same and Iya searched frantically for a weak spot. Savenia, meanwhile, sent out particles of light that renewed our strength as they hovered over us.

"Aghh!" I cried suddenly as a bolt of shadowy pain ran up my body. I heard the others emit similar moans of distress. Overhead, I saw Arugal casting some sort of black magic, which rained down on us like a monsoon. Savenia began to chant a spell; a nova of holy light radiated in a sphere around her, healing all of us and causing the worgen to cry out. "Now!" I shouted, trying to rally my teammates, "let's finish them off!" I threw a critical shadow bolt into the melee to back up my words. One worgen down, then another. The third came at Lonek with reckless abandon, but it too was no match for our onslaught.

Lonek stomped on the skull of one of the lifeless beasts now bleeding on the floor. He turned his head upward and taunted Arugal: "Is that the best you've got?"

Arugal laughed. "So you killed a few of my children. Pity, I did love them so. I guess it's time for the father of the worgen to step into the ring!" He hovered out over the middle of the room and dropped down. Immediately, a wave of aching agony rushed into the area, causing all five of us to fall to our knees. Arugal began firing off bolts of shadow energy; I took one hard in the chest, and it caused my vision to swim as a blinding hurt shook my brittle bones. Lonek managed to climb to his feet, biting the pain away, and started to move toward the Archmage. "Not so fast!" Arugal scolded. Instantly, a blast of umber sent Lonek tumbling backward.

"We've got to retreat!" I called out. "Quick, this way!" I fled through the open doorway with Mitexi, Savenia, Iyania, and Lonek hot on my heels. We flew up a spiral staircase as fast as our feet could take us, and soon emerged on the castle ramparts. Arugal, through magical means unknown to us, was already waiting there, floating several feet off the ground.

"You cannot escape, fools!" he cackled, releasing another wave of damaging energy. We all crumbled. Even Savenia's holy nova wasn't enough to stave off the injuries we were taking, and although she was doing her best, none of us would last much longer in this kind of onslaught. Arugal was simply too powerful. What could we do? I began to feel my heartbeat in my ears. They were counting on me to lead them out of here. What was left? What did we have in our bag of tri-

Wait. The bat handler. Hadn't he promised… yes! The answer I'd been looking for! I stuffed my hand in my travel pack and extracted the flare gun. With a swift motion, I fired off a few shots; they spiraled into the sky and exploded in colorful bursts. I heard Arugal laugh.

"Is that supposed to frighten me?" he jeered.

_Just hang on a bit longer_, I whispered to myself. _Help is coming_. The five of us managed to throw a few spells and swings at the Archmage, but he resisted every attempt we made at harming him, and soon we regressed to simply rolling and thrashing about on the ramparts. Savenia was clearly almost exhausted.

"Eeerraagh!" Lonek roared. He suddenly rushed to his feet and made his last stand before Arugal. I was stunned; Lonek was drawing blood! Dismayed, Arugal tried to fly out of reach, but Lonek kept him pinned.

"Go Lon… ek…." Mitexi cheered weakly, her voice dying out.

"Just a bit longer…" I mumbled, looking to the sky. The pain was beginning to overwhelm my senses. I could see Mitexi knocked out cold and Iyania writhing on the wood nearby. Savenia was using the last little bits of her energy to keep Lonek healed. How was that Warrior still standing? He was truly living up to his bragging last night. The tauren shrugged off spell after spell like they were naught but raindrops.

"Damn cow… why won't… you just… die quietly?" Arugal sputtered as he fended off a shower of blows. "Ya!" Another blast of energy knocked Lonek to the ground. Arugal advanced on the rest of us, but before he had time to cast anything else, a cloud of smoke rose up around him, causing him to begin coughing. I spotted huge, winged, black shapes, and in seconds found myself being carried in a pair of sharp talons. Up, up, up I went, zipping high into the air in an instant. I shut my eyes, partly so I wouldn't look down, and partly because I thought I might black ou-

* * *

I came to lying on my side on a soft patch of moss, and immediately searched for my companions. Mitexi was already awake, as was Savenia. Both were tending to Lonek, who'd been badly injured, and Iyania, who was still unconscious. I checked myself over. A few rips in my garments, and that wound on my ribs could use some dressing, but otherwise I appeared no worse for the wear. I felt like I'd been hit with a tree trunk, though.

Karos the bat handler walked up beside me as I staggered to my feet. "Glad you made it out. Deathstalker Adamant returned a few hours ago and informed me of your discovery." I could sense a bit of anguish in Karos' tone.

"I'm sorry about Deathstalker Vincent," I murmured, my throat dry.

Karos nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate you finding out his fate."

"Your bats really saved the day," I said as I fumbled for my waterskin. Boy could I use a drink.

"I'm glad they were of service to you," Karos replied with a smile. "Are your friends okay?"

I glanced over. Lonek and Iyania were awake now, thankfully. Looked like they were going to pull through. "Yeah. We took a serious beating near the end there. If your bats hadn't shown up when they did…" I trailed off, not wanting to imagine the sort of fate Arugal had in mind for us. What were we thinking, barging in there like we owned the place and stirring up the entire castle? Did we figure we'd be able to just stroll out the front door unopposed? Oh well. We were alive. And we had what we came for; I studied the ring on my finger carefully, noticing for the first time the symbol etched in its surface. Hm… a lion's head. The Alliance. Well, at least we hadn't killed a fellow member of the Horde. I put the ring in my travel pack so I wouldn't lose it on the journey home.

"Anyone get the number of the kodo that ran me over?" Lonek was groaning as I approached. Savenia murmured something in Thalassian, and Lonek's wounds healed further. I checked in with Mitexi and Iyania; both were well enough to travel. Lonek climbed to his feet a short time later. "Back to the Undercity?" he asked me.

"Yeah, does anyone have any further business here?" I questioned the assembled group. They shook their heads. Good. I was glad to be leaving this place behind. "All right, gear up. We've got a long walk ahead."

"Not necessarily," Karos cut in, stepping up beside me. "Perhaps my bats could be of service to you one final time?"

We took off a few minutes later, this time riding astride the bats rather than in their claws. I let out a cry of excitement as my bat lifted off. The wind whipped out my green hair, and I quickly slid on the goggles Karos had provided. Good thing too: despite the fact that I didn't actually have any eyeballs, I could still feel my sockets drying out in the breeze, and it would be impossible to see without protection. We soared high over Silverpine. From up here I could see what my map identified as Lordamere Lake, dotted with forested islands. The farmlands below seemed tiny and insignificant.

Ah, _this_ was the way to travel! Heartbeat up, adrenaline pumping, the gentle motions of the bat beneath me as he flapped his leathery wings. I promised myself that someday I'd own a flying mount and soar the skies. How did one go about buying such a creature? I'd have to see if anyone in Undercity knew.

We dove and banked our way around the back of the ruins of Lordaeron, entering a wide tunnel. A river of slime below indicated our entrance into the city proper, and soon the five of us were handing our goggles over to the bat handler on the upper central circle. We made our way to the inn and took seats at a table. Everyone was breathing hard, still pumped from the flight.

Savenia said something in Thalassian, and Iyania translated: "That was an exhilarating experience."

"Agreed," I said.

"I don't think Tauren were meant go in the sky," Lonek commented, looking a little queasy, "otherwise we'd have wings."

Mitexi laughed. "And then we'd have steaks that literally flew into your mouth!" She grinned at Lonek and licked her chops playfully. We chatted for a few minutes about our adventure, recounting particularly dangerous or exciting moments. Iyania recalled how we'd killed the worgen guarding the jail: she and Lonek had leapt over the balcony and landed on him, slamming into his body with their weapons like comets from above. Mitexi and I ranted about our imps: damn things had done nothing but cause trouble the entire time. Savenia, through Iya, expressed gratitude that we'd kept her safe so she could heal us effectively.

As our conversation continued, I looked around with a wide smile on my face. For the first time since I'd come back to life, I felt like I was home. These beings—undead, blood elf, tauren—were my friends, and I realized in that moment another goal I wanted to make for myself: keep friends close. Being alone in that crypt was the worst feeling in the world. I never wanted to feel that way again.

After a while, Lonek rose to his hooves. "I apologize, friends," he said grimly, "but the time has come for me to go."

I felt… disappointed. Leaving already? "Why?" I asked.

"The elders of Thunder Bluff are expecting me to return as soon as I can. They have further need of my skills." He bowed low to each of us in turn. "I hope our paths cross again." As he turned to leave, Lonek muttered, "Blightfire, may I speak to you in private a moment?"

Slightly confused, I followed him out of the inn. "Yes?"

"It has been a pleasure working with you," he told me calmly. "You've truly got the makings of a great leader, Blight." He shuffled in his bag. "Here. I want you to have this."

I took the object and examined it in my hand. It was a small cat-like claw attached to a cord, forming a necklace. "What is this?" I inquired.

"When I was a young bull in Mulgore, I was taught the same thing all tauren learn: the way of the hunter. That is a claw from the first lion I killed, a beast by the name of The Rake."

I felt a rush of emotion. "Lonek, are you sure you want to give this to me?"

He smiled broadly. "It's yours. Keep it to remember me, in case we don't see one another again."

"But we will," I insisted. "I just know we will."

He took my hand and kissed it tenderly. "I hope so." Then he walked away swiftly, leaving me standing at the threshold of the inn with the claw clutched in my fingers. I stared at his retreating back. What was this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach?

"Farewell," I whispered. Shaking my head, I returned to the table to find Iyania and Savenia standing beside it. They were talking rapidly to each other in Thalassian, but turned when I arrived.

"We should be taking our leave as well," Iyania said, "Rest assured: we will meet again. Savenia and I have further business in Undercity once we take this book back to our contacts in Silvermoon." She smiled at Mitexi and me. "It's been a pleasure grouping up with you." The two blood elves took their leave.

I collapsed into a chair. "Guess it's just you and me now, Texi," I commented, feeling a little gloomy.

Mitexi seemed to be in the same boat. "I'll miss them."

"Yeah, me too." We stared at each other, unsure of what to do next. "Well, anyway… wanna go get trained up on our new spells and all that?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Hang on, let me find the ring." I rummaged in my pack. Fungus… no. Gold coins… no. Strange wand I'd found on the body of one of the worgen… no. Business card from the bank… n-

Wait. Did I see what I thought I saw?

I stared slack-jawed, utter disbelief painted all over my face. "Mitexi, did you mess with this card while I was sleeping?" I demanded half-heartedly, already knowing the answer and dreading what it might mean.

She gawked at me. "What? No!" Leaning closer, she tried to get a peek at the card. "Why? What's on it?"

I flipped it around and showed her the back. "Remember how I told you I didn't know the code for the bank? Someone wrote a password on here." I handed her the card. "See?"

Mitexi examined it carefully. "…so? Maybe Lonek or Iyania played a trick on you." She passed the scrap back.

I took it with a shaking hand. "No Texi," I said, confusion now giving way to numbing unease throughout my whole body. "This is _my_ handwriting."


	12. Freebooters

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 12 – Freebooters

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: DYSTRESSI

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

I plunged my dagger into another chunk of cactus and drank heavily from the cool liquid within. It was mildly flavored, sweet and tangy. Perfectly refreshing as we rested beneath the shade of a towering, prickly plant on the soft sand. Though the sun beat down with more fury than I'd ever seen, I could not feel its heat; instead I felt only the sting of the piercing rays as they bored into my companions and me. We'd soon be redder than the blood of the hyenas and scorpions we'd slain in making our way to this place.

Spectress offered me a third piece, which I took gratefully, my thirst seemingly unquenchable. Only a few hours out here, and already I was sick of this damn desert. Too bad the Kirin Tor could track Spectress's portal use; I'd greatly prefer a quick tumble through the Nether if it meant we didn't have to walk all the way to Orgrimmar.

"Mmm," Katyaa grunted, slurping up the innards of a cactus. "Dat be da good stuff mon!"

"Agreed," I said with a smile. This troll, with her creamy blue skin and vibrant orange hair, was a welcome friend in the harsh environment of Tanaris. She knew every trick and tactic for staying comfortable out here. And although it was a bit hard to understand her accent, I nonetheless found myself enchanted whenever she opened her tusked mouth. Spectress seemed similarly enthralled.

"Looks like the sun is lower now," our draenei friend noted. "Time to move?"

Katyaa nodded. "Good eye. Da hottest part a da day be ova. We be headin' dat way." She gestured to the northeast. We gathered our supplies, packaged up a few extra slices of cactus for the journey, and began making our way past rows of soaring plants and rock formations.

I'd stripped off most of my thick leather armor, and was hiking along in the white shirt from the prison. I'd tied it in the front to give my thin stomach some air. Funny: unlike living women, I wasn't afraid to show a little skin. After all, dying is an excellent weight-loss program. The bones of my hips stuck out like handles on the side of an urn.

"How far to Gadgetzan?" Spectress asked. We'd only just begun our journey, and were nearly out of the cacti now. Katyaa opened her mouth, but all I heard were strange guttural noises and clicks. Ugh. Not this again. I elbowed Spectress gently, and she rolled her eyes at me. "Hang on Katyaa," she said, mumbling an incantation. I felt my intellect expand ever so slightly, bringing Katyaa's words into focus.

"…no more den tree days at da most." She scanned the horizon. "Dis weatha be pretty good. Long as we don be gettin' a sandstorm, we be doin' fine mon." Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks. "Hold on. Da spirits be speakin' ta me." The troll cocked her cute little head sideways and listened to the winds. I heard nothing. "Dis way," she ordered, changing course.

Spectress and I followed as she led us past a huge rocky outcropping. "Oh! That's-" Spectress gasped, startled. I saw why as I rounded the bend: we were standing before a large brown and tan turtle. He seemed to be in quite a flustered mood, insomuch as I could read the moods of giant reptiles. Katyaa was squatting beside his head, which looked about big enough to bite her in half.

"Uh huh… oh, I be seein'… ya mon… ya don say?" she mumbled. Nodding, she placed her hand on the turtle, and I saw a small spark of energy pass between them. Katyaa spun to face us. "Dis turtle be lost out here. He say he be rewardin' us if we can take him back ta da coast up by Steamwheedle Port."

My jaw dropped. "Wait, _what?"_

Spectress was similarly dismayed, I was happy to note. "No offense meant Katyaa, but what sort of a reward could a _turtle_ possibly offer?"

Katyaa gave us a frown. "Look, do ya be trustin' me or doncha? Dis be wort da trouble, I promise."

I sighed. "Fine."

Spectress cautiously approached the beast and patted its shell. "Does he have a name?"

"Tooga," Katyaa informed us. "Now, let's be movin' on."

_Great_, I thought. _Just when we finally get rid of that raptor_—Katyaa had given him detailed directions back to Gadgetzan and let him run at his own pace—_we find another big cold-blooded headache to take care of_. This one didn't seem to make Spectress nervous, however. Her fear of raptors was both understandable and a little bit adorable. I couldn't place my finger on why, but thinking about my purple-skinned, cloven-hoofed companion made me feel… tingly inside. In a good way.

"Tooga be knowin' da ways of da crechas out here, mon," Katyaa explained as we walked. "He tol' me some tings ta watch for." Sure enough, his knowledge came in handy: no sooner had Katyaa informed us to beware large skeletons in the desert than we came upon one such locale, and skirted around it. Good thing too: a huge swarm of carrion birds landed in the area shortly after we passed.

The day wore on, and on, and on. In these rolling dunes, it was impossible to tell if we'd made any progress. Nothing was visible for miles in any direction save those huge cacti we'd come from, which were disappearing rapidly at our backs. I tried chatting idly with Spectress and Katyaa, but the former was more exhausted than I was, and the latter responded primarily with random babblings about "da spirits" and cries of "da be good choice, mon!". So I just shut up.

Tooga, at least, was a steadfast companion. Plodding along beside us like a faithful dog, he aided us in combat when wandering hyenas or scorpions came to snag a bite of the bipeds. I laughed aloud when Spectress's blizzard spell turned to rain before her eyes. This desert was _hot_. The sand beneath my nearly bare feet felt nice, even though it wasn't warm. I really hated that. Warmth was one feeling I truly missed from being alive. Couldn't think of too many others though: many of the discomforts of living—and being a woman, for that matter—were completely gone. Still, it'd be nice to experience toasty sand under my toes again.

By evening we'd reached a tiny network of rocky outcroppings that formed a convenient dwelling for the night. At last something was visible in the distance: the wide ocean stretched out beyond the horizon to the east. I could hear the furious pounding of waves. It'd still be a while before we reached the coast, but at least we had a landmark… erm, seamark. Katyaa suggested we get to sleep now and wake up in a few hours to hike in the dark. We'd save ourselves the pain of the sun if we covered ground beneath the stars. Agreeing to this plan, Spectress and I made camp, while Katyaa scouted the area for food and fresh water. She returned later with both. Clever girl.

We sat round the campfire, chewing on roasted hyena chunks and sipping cactus juice. It wasn't much, but with resources as scant as they were out here, I was glad to have anything. Spectress took to polishing her hooves—something she claimed she did every night—and Katyaa was watching the fire, as if in a trance. I decided to speak up: "So, this desert kind of sucks during the day, but it's not so bad at night."

Spectress nodded. "You are correct, my friend."

"Dis place be notin' compa'd ta Silithus," Katyaa chimed in. "You been?"

We both shook our heads. "What's Silithus?"

The troll immediately broke into a fanciful tale of a barren wasteland, with skies darker than pitch and insects bigger than even Tooga and the three of us combined. Silithus, home of the Qiraji, she claimed, was a place few ventured to and even fewer returned from. Supposedly, great treasures awaited anyone brave enough to delve deep into the southern reaches of that forbidden land and journey past the Scarab Gate, into the temples of the Qiraji prophets. Katyaa explained that she'd been a member of a raiding party destined for such a fortune… with tragic and terrifying results, which she enumerated in gory detail. Her story put me in a jumpy mood. We laid down to rest and I shut my orbs, but already I could tell sleeping would not be easy tonight.

Thank the Gods for that.

I'd only just drifted off when the sound of a dagger being drawn from its sheath awoke me. In milliseconds I was armed and alert. My fighter instincts came in handy that night. I scanned the area, looking for our attacker. Whoever he was, he was about to be very, very sorry.

A pair of blades glimmered in the starlight off to my left. _There you are_. I slithered from my bedroll, performed a deft tumble, and, with a fierce battle-cry, drove my weapons into the back of the masked figure hovering over Spectress's sleeping form. A piercing scream rent the air. The would-be assassin crumpled to the sand, bleeding. I withdrew my weapons just in time to hear a roar of several voices rise up from nearby rocks.

"Spectress! Katyaa! We're under attack!" I cried, dropping into a stealthy crouch behind a large stone. My friends, though not as quick to awaken as me, were nonetheless soon up and combat-ready. Tooga withdrew into his shell. Couldn't say I blamed him; this wasn't the kind of combat a snapping turtle excelled at. Spectress cast her arcane intellect spell, causing a blue eye to appear briefly over her head. She did the same to Katyaa, whose eyes shimmered with increased perception, and me as well. Just in time, too: things were about to get interesting.

In every direction, varied humanoids rose from the dark sands. Most were clad in matching purple uniforms, and many had eye patches or cutlasses. All were wearing tabards adorned with the skull and crossbones. Pirates! I recognized humans amidst the crowd, but the other two races were new. Squat, green, spindly creatures, and what appeared to be hyenas walking upright in ragged clothing. What were these beings? Didn't matter. As long as they reacted to steel like their comrade had, we'd be in business.

A powerful voice roared, "Southsea Freebooters! _Attack!_" I couldn't make out the remaining words of the pirates' war cry, but their intent was clear: slaughter us by any means necessary. I felt a rush of wind as a musket ball whizzed past my hiding place. Damn, guns? Who said they could bring guns to a swordfight? Well, two could play at that game: I extracted a throwing dagger from my toolkit and lined up a shot at the gunman. The blade whizzed through the air. _Thunk_. Two kills for me now.

A dozen mercenaries swarmed into the area, while the rest held back, perhaps waiting to see how their more eager comrades fared. Spectress unleashed a nova of frost, freezing a number of the Freebooters in their tracks. Katyaa, meanwhile, demonstrated her extreme fighting prowess again and again as she weaved through the throngs with mace and dagger outstretched, her body swirling like a tornado. A tornado made of _lightning_. She waved her hand and four tribal totems rose from the earth; I felt myself grow substantially stronger and more agile. Now, needed to time this ambush right… go! I lunged from my hiding place and nearly killed one attacker outright. A quick eviscerate finished him off.

"C'mon me hearties! They ain't goin' down easy!" a voice cried. A flood of pirates washed into the area. Spectress called down a blizzard from above, and many of the pirates caved beneath the barrage, but it wasn't enough to stave the flow of sword-wielding scallywags.

"Dis be gettin' serious, mon!" Katyaa cried. She snapped her fingers and another totem appeared, along with… by the Gods! From the earth rose a colossal being made of crackling orange flames. The fire elemental surged into battle, incinerating three pirates immediately and hurling fireballs at another pair. I kept up a rapid pace, slicing and dicing my way through the crowd.

"Aaugh!" Spectress shrieked. I looked over; one of the pirates had nearly cut her tits off. Her beautiful robes were bloodstained. She collapsed to the ground, barely conscious. Feeling a sudden wave of protective fury, I hurled myself on the offender and tore him to pieces. Bastard. That'd teach him to mess with one of my girls.

"Katyaa!" I called, fumbling in my bag for a bandage. Phew, no need. A healing wave restored Spectress's torn flesh. She shook her head, clearly a bit shaken up, and allowed me to help her to her feet. "You okay?"

She smiled at me fondly. "Yeah, I-" _Kaboom!_ A tremendous explosion shook the night air. I saw one of the giant rocks we'd camped beneath explode as a cannonball burst through it.

"Look out!" I shoved Spectress out of the way, barely avoiding the falling debris. "A cannon? They brought a fucking _cannon?"_ Even as combat wore on, my brain immediately began mulling over the implications of this event. There were a number of strange factors at work here, and I found I could contemplate them even as I parried thrusts and sliced throats. One: the pirates found us in the middle of the desert. Not impossible, sure, but certainly a difficult challenge. Two: there were like a freaking million of them. Why bring so many? A standard raiding party would contain only ten or so. They'd brought an entire battalion. Three: the cannon. Either they were shooting from their ships, which seemed a bit of a long shot—pun fully intended—or they'd carted a massive weapon all the way out here just to fight the three of us.

Conclusion: someone sent them. Someone told them where we were and how much of a threat we presented. It was the only reasonable conclusion; why else would these Freebooters go through so much trouble? And if they were sent, it probably meant two more things: there'd be a reward for our heads, and others might be after us as well. Inevitably my thoughts returned to Kaelana and Lieutenant Sinclari. Who else would want us dead bad enough to pay off an army of pirates?

My theorycrafting was validated a few minutes later. After gutting yet another thug—thirteen kills now—I noticed a bright scrap of paper sticking out of his vest pocket. I pilfered it, seeing all I needed to see on the top corner: the Violet Eye. Mark of the Kirin Tor. Kaelana was undoubtedly behind this assault.

Another deafening explosion shook the ground and sent a shower of rocks on our heads. The fire elemental had long since dissipated, returning to whatever plane he hailed from. I glanced at my companions: they were clearly growing weary. Spectress and Katyaa used mana, right? That wasn't good. I felt like I had endless energy to expend, but I knew they'd be running out of steam in short order. We needed to get out of here.

"Time to run?" I hissed as I made my way past the caster duo, blocking blades left and right.

Katyaa looked over as she launched a burst of lava from her fingers. "Ya mon, I be tinkin' so."

"Do you have a plan?" Spectress asked, breathing hard.

"Yeah. Hold hands, quickly!" I cried. I reached into my tools as Spectress took my clawed fingers in her own. What I was about to attempt normally only succeeded for one person at a time, but oh well. Worth a shot. _Three oughta be enough_._ Hope this works_. I hurled a cluster of smoke pellets to the ground and Vanished, dragging my teammates along at a breakneck pace. We weaved through the rocks and emerged on the other side, totally clear of the pirates.

"Nice goin' mon!" Katyaa whispered happily as the outcropping disappeared behind us.

"Keep running!" I instructed.

"Uh oh, we've got company!" Spectress cried urgently, pointing over our shoulders.

I looked. Shit, they'd spotted us. A rolling wave of pirates, brandishing cutlasses and growling like hungry wolves, was hot on our trail. I spied a large rock formation in the distance. "Head for that cave over there! We can bottleneck them in the opening!" We covered ground at a fast clip. I didn't sprint at full speed because I knew I'd leave the others behind, but they were faster than I expected, and the pirates failed to move any closer. Still, the chase was on, and they didn't seem interested in giving up. A minute or so later, the caverns loomed before us.

"What now?" Spectress asked.

"Dat way!" Katyaa replied, pointing. She'd spotted the mouth of a nearby cave.

"Good, let's _gooowahhhh!"_ I screamed, for at that moment my foot met not with the expected—firm sand—but the unexpected—empty air—and I sank straight downward into a black tube of dirt, rubble, and wind. I clawed at the sky, feeling my hand almost grip the edge before it slipped free and I dropped.

"Dystressi!" I heard Spectress wail just as she disappeared from sight. I meanwhile, clocked my head against a rock, and was unable to enjoy the remainder of my journey down the sinkhole due to being unconscious.

* * *

A large, yellow, reptilian eye met my orbs as I came to. I yelped and skittered away, dragging my aching body with my arms. The soil was cold beneath my backside, and the only source of light in the area was coming from the ceiling above. My black heart thumped in my ears. Where were my weapons? I'd lost track of them during the fall. Not that they'd help much against a monster like this one; damn thing's _eye_ was bigger than me.

"Do not be afraid, mortal. I intend you no harm," the creature rumbled, its voice vaguely feminine. I studied it, now more curious than afraid, though still cautious: it was easily the size of a house, with brilliant amber scales, a pair of enormous wings folded at its back, and teeth big enough to cut me in half with a single bite. I spied deadly claws on its feet and spikes on its long, muscular tail, which was coiled comfortably about its body. Our surroundings were also worth noting: I could see the roof of a cave high above, but one of the walls nearby… no, that couldn't be right. I must still be delirious from the concussion.

"What… what are you?" I asked tentatively, not wishing to upset the creature.

It chuckled. "I'm a dragon of the Bronze Flight. My name is Zidormi. And I have some very important things to tell you." Zidormi rose to a stand and emitted a blinding flash of light. When the spots faded, I saw a startling figure before me: a gorgeous human female, with cocoa skin and sexy black hair done in a stylish bob that sprouted from her head like wings. She wore white robes with two black stripes down the center, interrupted by a gap through which I could see her deliciously toned stomach.

"Zidormi?" I stammered.

"Apologies," Zidormi said, her voice now human and sickly sweet. "Perhaps this form is a bit less intimidating?" She bit her lip. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I smiled uneasily. "That's… it's okay. I'm fine." I gazed around in wonderment. "Where are we?" My orbs kept darting back to the curvaceous woman standing—correction, floating—in front of me. Despite the fact that I knew she was actually a gigantic, scaly dragon beneath that supple skin, well… I had several things in mind that her human form would certainly enjoy. Rogues don't _always_ do it from behind, after all.

"Can you walk?" Zidormi asked, stirring me from my inappropriate musings.

"I think so," I answered, rising. Yeah, legs still worked.

She beckoned me forward. "Come, I want to show you a few things." I strolled alongside her, wincing a little from a pain in my limbs. Overhead, the impossible vision I'd had earlier kept repeating itself, as though defying reality just for spite. I steadfastly refused to believe it, but my resolve was weakening.

"Seriously, where are we?" I asked. Another thought occurred to me suddenly. "And what happened to my friends?" I realized I had no idea how much time passed while I was out.

She shot me a reassuring smile. "Your friends are safe. Don't worry. I'll return you to them when we're finished here." We were moving down a gradual incline, which soon leveled out in a wide circular room. I stared, awestruck. The center of the room had a raised platform, on which slept another bronze dragon, this one easily ten times the size of Zidormi. Various high elves, humans, and small, bulbous-nosed humanoids wandered around the area, talking amongst themselves. I spotted a few dragons patrolling the cave as well, but these walked on two legs and wore armor. The ceiling was what had me enthralled: large gaps in the cavern roof revealed the infinite reaches of space, swirling with stars and colorful bands of light. A belt of pockmarked stones orbited into view occasionally. This place, it seemed, was bigger inside than out. No way we were still under Tanaris.

"Welcome to the Caverns of Time," Zidormi said proudly. "From here, the Bronze Dragonflight oversees the timeline of this world. We are the protectors of fate; we move to correct any intrusions in time that might cause events to unfold incorrectly."

"Incorrectly?" I commented. "By whose standards?"

She gave me a mysterious smirk. "That is not for me to say. Come, I want to point out a few things." We strolled over the soft sand, soon arriving at a strange extension of the cave lined with buildings and trees. The objects and people—I spotted a few armored guards amidst the structures—were frozen in place and, I assumed, time. "This cave leads to a portal, which in turn leads to a point in the timeline that's been attacked by outside forces."

I nodded, pretending to understand. "Uh huh. Outside forces." What forces did she mean? Who or what could possibly be screwing with time itself?

"That's where we dragons step in. Our agents are working against the intruders to prevent the shattering of history." She gestured at a pair of high elves who were at that very moment charging down the tunnel. They morphed into dragon form before my eyes and disappeared out of sight.

"You… you don't want _me_ to do that, do you?" I asked, suddenly nervous. Fighting pirates was one thing, but time travel? Not my cup of tea. I was hardly in any condition to be saving even myself right now, let along the entirety of Azeroth's timeline.

Zidormi laughed good-naturedly. "No, no. Don't worry. That burden does not fall on your shoulders." We continued traversing the sandy circle. I spied several more tunnels with varied décor—a swamp-like path, a path lined with tall pines, and a path that reminded me of a very familiar city, though I couldn't remember the name for the unlife of me. Zidormi cleared her throat, and her tone became serious. "There is, however, another matter."

"Another matter?" That didn't sound good.

"Yes." She bit her lip again. "Your destiny, for reasons that have nothing to do with any actions you took or didn't take, has suddenly become _extremely_ important to the Bronze Dragonflight. So much so, in fact, that Nozdormu-"

"Who?"

"The leader of our Flight."

"Oh."

"Nozdormu has authorized countermeasures unlike anything we've previously undertaken," and here she paused to smile knowingly at me, "well, previously undertaken according to your linear understanding of time, anyway—in the history of Azeroth. And _you_, my undead friend, play a key role in the proceedings, as do your companions on the surface. You shall become a Defender of Time."

I felt my jaw drop. "Me? But… why?"

She patted me condescendingly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I can't say anything else except this: you must seek out-"

"No, wait, hold on," I snapped, putting up a clawed hand. "I want to be clear on something here: you're asking me to be an agent of the Bronze Dragonflight, but you're not going to explain why? You're asking me to put my life and the lives of my friends in danger so we can further goals that we're forbidden from knowing or understanding? Is _that_ what you're telling me?"

She nodded, tilting her head. "Yes… is that a problem?" I sensed a startled innocence in her tone, and my cold heart softened a bit. Maybe I was reading her wrong.

"You… don't interact with mortals much, do you?" I asked gingerly.

Zidormi bit her voluptuous, pouty lip once again. "Um… no, not really. Have I said something wrong?" She appeared on the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry if I've offended you! I really don't talk to mortals much, you see."

Now it was my turn to pat her on the shoulder and smile. "It's all right sweetie. Don't worry about it. Please, tell me who I'm supposed to find." Inside, however, I was still fuming: where did people get off telling me what to do all the time? First David Trias, then the Kirin Tor, now the Bronze Dragons… who'd be next? The Lich King? The Makers themselves? I wasn't pleased about my latest mandatory assignment, to say the least. Then again, if it meant I got to spend more time with Zidormi, well…

The dragon-turned-human took a deep breath and said, "You must seek out the one who shares the mark on your neck. Her name," I felt my breath catch in my throat, "is Blightfire. She is a Forsaken warlock, currently learning the ropes in Deathknell, although by the time you reach the Eastern Kingdoms she'll have moved on. In fact," and here Zidormi shot me a conspiratory wink, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but since I like you I'll share one secret: she's bumping elbows with your mentor as we speak."

Trias. "Really?"

"Oh yes. She'll set in motion a chain of events that will lead to… well, perhaps I'd better not say. But listen closely Dystressi. This is the important part."

I leaned in. "Go ahead."

Zidormi's tone was grave. "As I said, the Bronze Dragonflight is working tirelessly to repair the timeline. Your role in that endeavor isn't clear yet, I know, but please: find Blightfire. Once you do, I promise you'll gain new understanding of what's going on and what your part is in all of it." She gave me a beautiful smile. Then her face lit up with a sudden realization, and she shuffled in her robes. "Oh! I have some things to give you." She extracted two items and passed them to me. One was a magnificent crystallized amber pendant on a gold chain, and the other was-

"A stopwatch?"

"Nifty, isn't it?" She giggled. "When you channel power from the necklace, you'll be able to call for the aid of a bronze drake. Use this ability sparingly; Nozdormu may have agreed to let us carry out a huge operation, but our resources are still spread thin, and if you ask too often the drakes may tire of helping you. As for the stopwatch… you'll know what to do with that when the time comes." Another charming grin.

"Thank you," I said humbly, stowing the watch in my toolkit and putting on the amulet. It matched my eye orbs.

"One more thing." She snapped her fingers at me, and I felt a weird tingle run down my spine.

"What was that?"

"A little gift from me to you," she said with a kind wink. "I think you'll _comprehend_ later." She giggled and clapped her hands together. "Well, that concludes what I brought you down here to tell you. Are you ready to return to the surface and see your friends?"

I nodded half-heartedly. What I was _really_ ready for was probably the furthest thing from Zidormi's mind right now. Dragon or not, this chick had it goin' _on_. "Yes, I'm ready," I told her firmly. _Ready to see what you look like without that robe on. Yum._

"Very well. Hold still." She waved her perfect hands over my body, and the world began to fade, giving way to milky whiteness, while the air rang with bell-like chimes. I could see Zidormi standing before me, and as I wavered in and out of existence, I saw her lean forward, right up next to my ear, so close I could feel her breath on my clammy skin. "Oh, and Dytressi," she whispered seductively, "later on, we do. And it's more amazing than you're imagining right now." She winked at me and ran her tongue across those luscious lips.

Well, shit. My girly parts still worked fine, I immediately discovered. I reached out a decrepit hand to touch her divine face, but before I could make contact I was gone, washed away by Zidormi's soothing magic. The world faded to white, and I slept peacefully, completely at ease—and a bit soggy between the legs. Sex with a dragon… I guess working on the behalf of the Bronze Flight _does_ have its perks.

* * *

"Dystressi!" I heard Spectress wail. I blinked, feeling the weight of my weapons at my sides again. Thank the Gods she'd restored them to me. Where was I? Wait… no way. This couldn't be possible. I was standing beside a stone wall, just a few yards from the sinkhole and apparently at the same moment I'd sank. Well, that's time travel then. I watched my hand disappear into the loose earth. Weird. Both my friends dove to the ground, clawing at the sand, trying to catch my fingers. "Oh no!" Spectress groaned. "What do we do now?"

Katyaa shrugged. "Dunno, but we best be doin' sometin' fast, mon!" She pointed at the incoming swath of pirates.

How best to handle this? "Ahem," I coughed. "Not to worry ladies, I'm right here."

Spectress peeked up and let out a tremendous gasp. She looked at me with eyes the size of dinner plates, then at the sinkhole, then back at me. "But… you were… how did…" I saw her wipe a tear from the side of one eye. "Thank Gods you're okay!" She climbed to her feet and gave me a quick hug. Mmm. That felt nice.

Katyaa was also wearing a deeply confused expression. "You be workin' some kinda magic, Rogue," she said in awe. "How you be doin' dat?"

"No time to explain. Just get yourselves ready and hope what I'm about to do works." I clutched the amber necklace and shut my eyes. I could feel energy pulsing into my fingers, waiting for me to activate it. I did so. A sound like the screech of a raptor filled the air, or was that just in my ears?

"Look!" Spectress cried. Overhead, a large bronze drake materialized out of a cloud of arcane symbols. It roared fiercely and immediately dove on our Freebooter friends, shooting jets of golden fire and raking with its sharp talons. We joined the fight immediately, hurling spells and daggers. It was over almost before it began; the first wall of pirates fell beneath the drake's relentless assault, and the remaining band, perhaps finally seeing how unprepared they were to face us, turned tail and fled. The drake shredded a few stragglers before flying back to my side. He landed next to me with a crash.

"_Dystressi,_"I heard a deep voice rumble. The others didn't react. This beast was speaking to me telepathically. _"Be careful. This band of ruffians will not be the last to assault you on your journey. Summon our aid when you need it, and know that although we cannot always assist, we'll do our best to support you."_

I nodded. "Thanks." The drake let out another roar, and flew up into the sky, disappearing in a burst of colors and symbols.

Spectress and Katyaa gaped at me. "Okay," Spectress stated decisively, "have you been holding out on me? How in the world did you do that?"

I grinned wickedly. "Let's go find Tooga. I'll explain when we get there." We made the trek back, following our own footprints—and the trail of bloody pirate corpses—to the shattered rocks. Tooga was still hiding in his shell, apparently unharmed. As we gathered our supplies—none of us could sleep after that nerve-obliterating fiasco—I related my experience in the Caverns of Time: waking up beside a dragon, the tour, Zidormi's explanation of my mission, the gift of the necklace and stopwatch, and my return to the surface. I conveniently left out the erotic bit right near the end. That was something I'd prefer to keep for myself.

"So she transported you back in time to when you fell?" Spectress asked. "Wow." She was clearly impressed.

"I seen bronze dragons in Silithus before," Katyaa commented. "But you say she be sayin' we all connected ta dis?"

"That's right," I answered. "I… hey, wait. I can understand you!" In a flash, I recalled Zidormi's third gift: the odd sensation she'd sent through my body. Comprehend… hmm. "Katyaa, what other languages do you know?"

Katyaa gave me a surprised look. "Um… I be speakin' Orcish now, mon, but I also be knowin' da language of da Darkspea's, and somma da words of da spirits. Why?"

I felt my heart race with excitement. "Say something in Darkspear."

"What, like dis mon?" Although I could hear different words leaving her mouth, somewhere between my ears and my brain they morphed, and I understood everything. Spectress watched me with rapt interest.

"This is so cool!" I answered in the language of the trolls. Whoa, that felt _weird_. I didn't know my tongue could bend that way. "I can speak your language!"

Katyaa was duly impressed. "So ya can, mon! Ya be soundin' like a real troll."

"Can you understand this?" Spectress asked me, in what I assumed was her native tongue.

"Yeah, I hear you loud and clear."

She gasped. "That's quite astounding!" We'd finished packing our supplies and started our trek northeast. "Zidormi must really be serious to give you a power like that." I detected a bit of jealousy in her voice.

"Ain't dat da truth," Katyaa added. "Well, anyway, if we be marchin' da rest of da night, we should be makin' it ta Steamwheedle by tomorrow evenin'." Spectress and I agreed to attempt such a feat, and we journeyed onward.

The night went fast, followed by another achingly long, hot day. But I barely noticed the sting of the sun or the pain in my feet from walking for so long. I was too busy mulling over the possibilities, replaying every instant of my encounter in the Caverns of Time, and trying not to get extremely turned on whenever I thought about Zidormi. The lattermost task proved very difficult. Nonetheless, my deliberations yielded a few conclusions by the time we reached Steamwheedle.

First, it was clear this was serious. Zidormi wouldn't go through all the trouble of locating me, talking with me, and giving me powerful artifacts and abilities if it wasn't a grave matter. Second, whatever the connection was between Blightfire and myself—beyond the tattoos, of course—I'd have my work cut out for me when we reached the Eastern Kingdoms. It'd be days before we got there. She could be anywhere. Third, the problems with the timeline Zidormi referred to were, for the moment, far beyond my grasp. I figured I wouldn't understand that any better until I found the Warlock I'd been charged with locating.

My thoughts were interrupted by an excited cry from Tooga. We'd just reached the outskirts of the tiny Steamwheedle Port. The turtle hustled away, quicker than I'd seen him move the entire trek here. I saw why moments later: two other turtles were standing on the shore, grunting elatedly at Tooga's approach. He nuzzled against the larger one and clunked his shell with the small one.

"Aw," Katyaa said sweetly. "Dat be his wife an' child." She led us down to the shore, where Tooga stood waiting. "What's dat?" The troll communed with the turtle once more. She gestured at the bigger of the two new creatures. "Dis be Torta, his mate. Da little one be Verde, his son."

Spectress smiled. "It's nice to see a family reunited."

Tooga withdrew into his shell. When he emerged again, he was clutching a number of rings in his mouth. Katyaa took them, wiped off the slobber, and distributed them among us. "Da reward he promised," she explained.

I slipped one onto a finger, feeling my agility increase slightly. "Thanks!" I said. "Tell him thanks." Although I could now speak many languages—perhaps every language—I didn't have the magical prowess to communicate with animals.

Katyaa whispered something to Tooga, listened to his reply, and grinned. "He says ya welcome. And dey be promisin' us sometin' else, too."

Spectress and I perked up our ears. "Oh?"

"Ya mon. Dey said in da mornin' or whenever we wanna go, dey be ferryin' us ta Orgrimmar!" She laughed. "Dat be much fasta den walkin' across Thousand Needles, da Barrens, and Durotar!"

I was excited. No more hiking! "Fantastic! But, can we sleep, please?" I felt my eyelids drooping.

Katyaa nodded. "Ya, da be good choice mon."

We made camp on the shore—Steamwheedle had no accommodations available, Spectress reported—and passed the night uneventfully. I dreamt of clocks. In the morning, Tooga, Torta, and Verde briefed us on the journey ahead. Which is to say, Katyaa translated their instructions like so: "Dey be sayin' we gon pass by Dustwallow Marsh and up along da coast a da Barrens. We'll swim by da Echo Isles—my old home—an' arrive at Orgrimmar by evenin'. Dis be a long journey, mon, but Tooga promises he be swimmin' fasta den he walk on land!"

I chuckled. "Good thing. Let's ride!"

Spectress climbed astride Torta, while Katyaa sat on Tooga and I—being the smallest and lightest—was given Verde. The turtle's shell proved more comfortable than I'd expected, and spacious too—I had enough room to spread out my whole body if I liked. I contented myself with reclining as we shuffled out of the shallows and into deeper water. The sun overhead sparkled in an azure sky, and the waters beneath me gleamed bright blue with its light, but the only color I saw in my eyes was bronze. Defender of Time… that was a title I could get used to, I'd decided. I waved happily at Spectress and Katyaa, who were riding a few yards away. I was glad to have some friends along for the journey. I didn't want to do this alone.

Tanaris faded into the distance behind us. Next stop: Orgrimmar!


	13. Letters and Words

Undeath Beckons

Chapter 13 – Letters and Words

LOADING…

FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…

CHARACTER SELECTED: BLIGHTFIRE

ENTERING WORLD…

* * *

Mitexi stared at me with growing unrest in her orbs. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"But you don't remember writing it?"

"_No, I don't remember writing it!" _ I snapped fiercely. "Why would I be making a big deal of it if I did?"

Mitexi cringed at my words. "Sorry."

I took a breath. "No, I'm sorry. I'm worked up. I shouldn't yell at you."

She forced a thin smile. "Well, anyway… should we go see what's in the bank?"

"Assuming this really is the password," I replied, heading for the door with Mitexi on my heels. I couldn't figure it out. When had I written this? How? Or was someone having a laugh at my expense? We traversed the steps quickly and found ourselves standing once again before Mortimer Montague.

He looked us up and down. "Welcome to Royal Undercity Bank. Can I be of assistance?"

"Mortimer, it's us," I said flatly. "I have the password for my bank account."

He blinked his orbs at me. "And you are…?"

"Blightfire. The account might be under-" I winced, "-Silina?" Phew. No hallucinations or dreams or whatever they were.

Mortimer consulted some sort of tome on the desk before him, and looked up again. "Let me check your enchantment." He waved his fingers. "Yes, that's you all right. I remember you from the other day."

I rolled my eyes at him, which had no effect whatsoever since I didn't have eyes to roll. "Yes. The password is-"

"Wait!" he snapped, holding up a hand. "That's not the method we use. Here." He spun the ledger toward me and gestured with a quill. "Write it down. Only you can see the ink from this pen as it drops onto the paper, so your password is safe. The book is enchanted to recognize the writing. Once the correct password is entered, it checks it against your enchantment and waits for my signal to proceed. In this way, even if the book is stolen it is useless without me to activate it."

I nodded, and replied drolly, "Fascinating." With a steady hand, I wrote out the password from the back of the business card: _undeath beckons_.

The book hummed softly and radiated a dim white light. After a second, it made something like a _ping_ sound, and Mortimer took it from the desk before me. "Your bank vault, Miss Blightfire." He gestured at the wooden door to his left. "If you'll kindly step inside."

I eyed the portal warily. "Wait… but that leads to the offices."

"Not for you, it doesn't," he answered, sounding bored.

Mitexi and I both shot him a confused look. "What?" Apparently he hadn't briefed her on this part of the banking process.

"Indeed. Now that you've been successfully identified as the owner of this account, this doorway leads to a pocket dimension which houses your bank vault. You are the only person who can enter the vault, and after ten minutes the door will return to its normal functionality. If you are inside the vault at that time, you'll be returned here before it shuts." He sighed. This was clearly not the first time he'd had to explain this process.

"Wicked…" I murmured excitedly. "Well, in I go then," I told Mitexi, who was looking at me with a mixture of fear and excitement.

"Be careful," she said gently.

I grasped the rusty knob of the door and turned it, revealing a torchlit chamber beyond. Carefully, I took a step inside, and shut the door behind me. I was standing in a tiny room, no bigger than a standard bedroom at an inn. Every wall was lined with sturdy shelves, and there was a large table in the center. The lower sections of the shelves had drawers and cabinets built in. I couldn't quite see where the light was coming from, but after spinning round, I spotted a large torch over the doorway. The floor was hewn stone, and the air smelt of dust. I—for who else but me could gain access—clearly hadn't been in this room for a while.

I quickly scanned the shelves, looking for items of value. There was nothing to be found: every shelf was bare, and rummaging through the drawers yielded no results. All that work and stress for an empty vault? It hardly seemed fair, and what's more, it just didn't _feel_ right. My past self _must_ have left something here. What else would the dreams mean? How else could I interpret the fact that I'd somehow written the password without knowing it, except to think that my subconscious _wanted_ me to get into this vault? Still, all wishful thinking aside, I wasn't finding anything.

"By the Hells," I grumbled. "There'd better be something in here." My sockets swept the shelves once again. Wait… up there! I spied a bundle of items on the top shelf, in the corner. Hmm. No ladder. Thinking quickly, I shoved the table around and clambered atop it. Success! I picked up the bundle and returned to the floor. Spreading it on the table, I began sorting through the treasures contained within.

The first item I removed from the pack was a shining necklace. I studied it with wide eyes: the chain was silver, and upon it hung a circular medallion, encrusted with fabulous jewels. They reminded me of the gems I'd almost given to David Trias. What ever became of those jewels? Anyway, this necklace radiated magical power as I clutched it in my fingers. I admired it as the rubies and sapphires caught the torchlight. Moving on, I slipped a long, flowing, slightly tattered set of robes from the parcel. They were deep, misty purple, with brownish highlights and golden skulls across the seams and center. Oo, and they felt quite magical indeed. I set them aside.

The next thing I pulled from the package was less exciting: an old, worn-out metal screw, from a piece of machinery, attached to a thin cord. What was this doing in here? I shrugged and put it around my neck. It must've meant something to me once… but the meaning was lost. Still, kind of neat. There were a few other pieces of gear in here, but nothing that seemed quite as magical as the robes and necklace: a wand, a pair of bracers, and a belt. I put all of these items in the growing pile of things on the table. Now the sack I'd pulled from the shelves was nearly empty. I reached in and extracted what proved to be the most interesting item of all.

It was a letter, written on dried-out parchment and sealed with an unfamiliar emblem. I carefully opened the creased edges, worn from repeated readings, and began studying the text. The words were written in Common in a loopy, girlish script that I found vaguely familiar. I couldn't understand any of them, but as I turned over the page, a scrap fell from within. It was another piece of paper, this one adorned with my jagged handwriting. I gasped: a translation, in Gutterspeak! Rough Gutterspeak, sure… even at a glance I could see a number of spelling and translation errors jumping out at me like flashing lights in a dim room. I took a seat on the table and began to read, my mind correcting the errors as I went...

* * *

_Dearest sister,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Mother has informed me of your continued studies in the Plaguelands, as well as your ongoing fascination—dare I write obsession?—with the Forsaken and all things related to their "condition". Hearing this news placed me in a grave mood indeed. I know you don't put much stock in the Light, but believe me when I say this isn't what it wants for you. Your explorations and experiments with the plague have set you on a dangerous path, and I would hate to see any ill befall you as you tread. Why must you continue this course of work? I urge you, sister: abandon that treacherous pursuit! Come to Outland and join me on the front lines: here, among the Alliance and the forces of good… instead of there, among the dead._

_Apologies. I did not mean to fly off the handle like that. All I want is for you to be safe and happy, but I fear that what you're doing now can only produce the latter of those results, if either. Please… be careful. _

_Moving on, I suppose you are already aware that Spectress and I are no longer together. Mother does have a habit of sharing everything I tell her with you, regardless of how private it may be. I suppose that comes of being the younger sibling; Mother seems to think I still need you to watch me at all hours of the day and night, to keep me out of trouble. This, as we both know, is no longer the case. But I've digressed: I'm hopeful for the future. I know that I'll find someone new in time; someone whose goals are closer to my own; someone who is a better match for me. I do have my eye on a priestess in our company, in fact, but whether or not she'd be interested in my advances remains to be seen._

_There is one other matter that I wish to address, but I dare not speak plainly of it for fear of this letter being intercepted. So forgive the vague nature of the following segment. Rest assured that I will strive to say as much as I can: Recently, an extremely powerful artifact has come into the possession of the Kirin Tor, my current employers. I have reasons to believe that this artifact, if it were to fall into the wrong hands, could be used to perpetrate great evil. Now, that fact alone is of little consequence, for there are many powerful artifacts in this world; however, is has also come to my attention that one of my superiors may perhaps not be as trustworthy as was previously thought. In fact, I suspect she has intentions to eliminate one of the members of the Council, and thereby open a seat for herself. I cannot say more now, but I will tell you this much: If it is within my power to do so, I intend to prevent that from happening. I'll end on this note: if, in the time before my next letter reaches you, you hear news of me—good or bad—know that I was trying my best to do what I thought was right. Do not fear for me. I know what I'm doing._

_Be well Silina. I hope to see you again soon._

_All my love,_

_Cassandr__i_

* * *

I folded the letter and shut my eyes. Cassandri… the name felt like heavenly chimes ringing in my ears. There was no doubt about it: I had a sister out there somewhere, and although I could not remember her face or think of even one word she'd ever said to me, I knew this: I'd loved her once, very much. The feelings were still residing somewhere within, but now I had nothing to tether them to, save for the letter. I studied her signature: curly and gentle, with clear, straight lines. My rotted cheeks broke into a smile when I noticed she'd dotted the last letter of her name with a heart.

As for the text of her message, what was I to make of it? I'd been studying the plague in the Plaguelands? That made my transformation a bit more logical… but how had it come about? An accident? Or by design? If I'd taught myself Gutterspeak so I could write this translation, was it because I intended to walk among the Forsaken as one of them? I had no further clues and couldn't speculate. I turned my thoughts to the final segment of the letter: what was Cassandri up to? Had she succeeded in preventing the assassination? Or perhaps it was all some elaborate code, and the problem was of a different nature? Without further context, I couldn't determine anything else. I carefully gathered all the items and left the bank vault.

"Blight!" Mitexi cried as I emerged. She was seated on the stone steps outside the bank, but rose as I appeared. "What kept you?"

"Huh?" I asked. "I was only gone for-"

"Like nine and a half minutes. You had me worried!" She patted me on the shoulder. "What'd you find?"

I motioned for her to follow me as my feet carried me toward the Temple of the Damned and our orc trainer. "Got a pretty nice haul. I want you to have some of these things, actually." I passed her the bracers, belt, and wand, keeping the necklace and robe for myself. She put them on as we strolled.

"Wow, thanks! These are pretty awesome," she commented, beaming. I gave her a polite curtsey.

"There was something else in there, too," I mentioned. "But I'll show you later."

"Demon-heads!" Kaal Souleater cried gleefully as we approached. "It's good to see you alive and well!"

We saluted him respectfully. "Sir," I said with authority, "we come bearing news of our expedition to Shadowfang Keep."

"Lok'tar! What have you to say?"

I extracted the ring and held it out in my closed fist. "I think this will speak for itself." I opened my hand, and watched the orc's twisted eyes light up.

"Excellent… so, the old fool finally got what he deserved," Kaal growled. He snatched the ring from my finger and held it up to the light. "You have done very well. As promised, I'll teach you the summoning and conjurations spells." He pocketed the ring and began moving swiftly toward the slime-circled arena we'd trained in previously. "Come, demon-heads. Come learn the ways of darkness."

Mitexi and I smiled widely. "With pleasure."

* * *

"Go Texi! Go!" I shrieked, clapping. The Voidwalker at my side rolled the two glowing yellow spheres he had for eyes, and shrugged his titanic blue shoulders. Mitexi used Life Tap to restore some of her expended mana, and I saw her wince as the energy was sucked from her body. She unleashed a barrage of shadowbolts; most of them connected with the creature on the other side of the arena: a slender, pink-skinned, bat-winged, cloven-hoofed demon known as a succubus. The succubus let out a shriek—more like a moan, really—and cracked her whip, ripping a chunk out of Mitexi's side. The girl wailed in pain. Black blood poured from the gouge.

"You'll pay for that!" Mitexi howled. She slipped a glowing lime-colored Healthstone from the pouch at her hip and, with far more force than necessary, crunched it into dust in her fist. The wound in her torso slithered shut, fully healed. Mitexi tumbled out of the way of another whip crack and planted her full complement of curses and afflictions on the demoness, causing that seductive specimen to yelp agitatedly. After another round of shadowbolts, it was over: Mitexi stood triumphant, and the succubus knelt before her, defeated.

"Tch. You win this round," the succubus purred. "What is your bidding, mistress?"

Mitexi, suddenly shy, asked timidly, "What's your name?"

"Carrlissa."

"Very good. That will be all for the moment. Follow me and stay invisible until I need you."

"As you wish, mistress." Carrlissa waved her hand and faded from sight. I muttered the incantation Kaal had taught us to reveal invisible creatures, and sure enough, Carrlissa shimmered back into view, still somewhat hazy but clear enough to make out. She was busily polishing her nails, and apparently didn't know I could see her.

"Excellent work!" Kaal cheered, stepping down from the pedestal he'd stood upon to oversee our training in the arena. "You've managed to bind a succubus. She'll be a faithful and powerful minion for you. Well, all right, perhaps faithful is the wrong term…" he winked at us. "Let's just say that succubi often indulge their more… _carnal_ desires whenever, wherever, and however possible."

I could've told her that. I'd taken down Helyla—my new sex-crazed succubus—a half-hour or so prior, while Mitexi was learning how to create healthstones and soulstones. As I stood over Helyla's battered, bleeding form in sweet triumph, in a strange way playing dominatrix to her submissive slave, well… let's just say I wasn't aware a spiked tail could be used for the practice she was covertly engaging in as she knelt at my feet. Her expression as she satisfied her urges—and the way it grew even more gleeful and animated when she realized I'd noticed what she was doing—was still burned into the backs of my missing eyelids. A demon's O face is a rare sight to behold.

The voidwalker at my side, Mezzjuk, grumbled at me again. He was eager to do something more exciting than stand around. We'd been watching Mitexi for a while now. Thankfully, her acquisition of a succubus was our final trial, and Kaal was more than happy to prepare letters recommending us for our desired mission into the Scarlet Monastery. We took the notes gratefully and said our farewells to the unusual orc.

Night was upon us now, not that we could tell since there was no daylight in these frigid subterranean halls. Mitexi and I, exhausted from our studies and experiences, spent the night at the inn in the central circle of Undercity. Rising late the next morning—we both felt we deserved a break after our rigorous day—I showed Cassandri's letter to Mitexi over breakfast. Her reaction was as I'd anticipated.

"Wow," she said after reading it, losing a bit of her moonberry juice down her shirt. "So _you_ wrote that translation?"

"It's my handwriting."

"And you realized Cassandri is Dystressi?"

"Well, I mean, look at the evidence: the blonde girl in my flashback had a tattoo just like mine, and so does Dystressi. Either bunches of people have this mark on their necks, or we're related. It just makes sense that way."

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess. So what will you do now?"

I shrugged and pushed another piece of cave mold into my mouth. "Dunno. But it doesn't change our current plan: find and eliminate David Trias."

Mitexi grinned wickedly. "Hell yeah." After packing our things, closing up our tab, and snagging a cupful of water for the seed pouch at my hip—no sign of any sprouting yet—we took our leave of the inn. Our feet carried us swiftly to the Rogues' Quarter, where Carolyn Ward was instructing a class of young Forsaken rogues fresh out of Deathknell. While I wouldn't have much minded interrupting her, I felt it wiser to stay on her good side. Pissing her off outright seemed largely counterproductive.

After a while, Carolyn dismissed her wards and approached us. "Ladies," she panted, out of breath after demonstrating her finishers. "You're back."

"We are. We've done as you asked," I explained plainly. "Here. Two letters of recommendation, signed and sealed by Kaal Souleater himself."

Carolyn took the tattered scrolls from our hands and studied them a moment. "Yes, yes, these seem to be in order." Her bright orbs met my own. "You _really_ think you're ready to take on Trias?"

I met her stare. "You think we aren't?" Though I wasn't quite sure how, I managed to make the space in my eye sockets flare vibrant orange for a second, like a tiny jet of flame was about to burst out of my skull. Carolyn flinched.

"Very well. Come with me." She led us across the wide training platform and down a tight corridor. Turning rapidly, we arrived at a small chamber. I spotted two familiar, pink-skinned faces, as well as an unfamiliar rotting one, sitting at a large wooden table. "Have a seat," Carolyn instructed.

"Hello Blightfire, Mitexi. It's a pleasure to see you again," Iyania said smoothly, shooting us a glance. "Nice work you did with Kaal. You've both improved a lot since Shadowfang, and it's only been a day or so."

"How did you…?" I stammered.

"Um, rogue?" Iyania answered sarcastically. She made a face that screamed _Duh!_

"Allow me to introduce your group for this adventure," Carolyn explained, gesturing at each member as she continued. "Iyania, a talented Rogue. Savenia, a Priestess and healer. And Deathstalker Vorrel Sengutz, your Warrior for this expedition. Vorrel, meet Blightfire and Mitexi." The tank gave us a nod. He was a plain-looking Forsaken, with a bland scalp and only half a jaw. Charming.

"Right. Okay, what's the situation here?" I asked.

"I'll tell you what we know, and what's expected of you." Carolyn unrolled a wide map onto the table. It was marked with a variety of scribblings, and depicted a large, four-winged building. "This is the Scarlet Monastery, located in northwestern Tirisfal Glades. Trias has been given co-commandership of the entire facility and all personnel within its walls. Furthermore, our spies report that he has one-way communication devices that allow him to contact the champion of each of the wings. That means you'll need to eliminate the entirely of the Scarlet leadership before you can hope to touch Trias; if you miss a wing, he'll summon the whole battalion from that area down on you in a heartbeat."

"Seems straightforward enough," I commented.

Carolyn went on, "Your point of entry will be the Graveyard. The Scourge have overtaken this area. Their leader is the powerful Bloodmage Thalnos, whom you'll need to kill. You can then break through the Scarlet lines into this room," she pointed at the map, "which is a holding and questioning facility. Kill Interrogator Vishas, if he's around. Free any Horde prisoners you find. Leave the Alliance prisoners to rot." I noted a smirk of amusement on her face as she said this. "As you pass into the main monastery antechamber, you'll want to locate the Library wing, here. The Library contains a number of documents of interest to the Royal Apothecary Society. Any books on Lordaeron history or alchemy that you can locate will fetch a nice price. In particular, I want you to obtain the _Compendium of the Fallen_; I have a contact in Thunder Bluff who'd pay handsomely for its recovery." She gave a nod to Iyania, who returned it. Perhaps literature recovery was a specialty of hers?

I watched Carolyn's finger trace our path on the map as she said, "Beware of Houndmaster Loksey, who keeps his dogs in this first courtyard. You'll travel through the Library this way, and face off against Arcanist Doan. He holds the key to your next destination, accessible here: the Armory. Herod, the Scarlet Champion, will be waiting in the Hall of Champions. Defeat him and his army, and you'll obtain the key to your final goal: the Cathedral."

Mitexi made a gulping sound. Savenia also looked nervous. Iyania, I noted, kept her cool. I myself was feeling a little uneasy; this was a _huge_ mission. But we were ready. We'd trained. We _were_ prepared. "You'll meet heavy opposition both inside and outside the Cathedral, Shadowstalkers," Carolyn continued. Shadowstalkers? We were Shadowstalkers now? Cool. "But if you've made it that far, you should be able to handle it. There are three targets you need to neutralize before your final showdown with Trias." Carolyn produced a trio of dossiers, each containing sketches of the targets.

"Who should we get first?" I asked.

"High Inquisitor Fairbanks," Carolyn answered, holding up a drawing of a zombie, "a free undead who has chosen to remain with the Crusade. If you can convince him to join the Dark Lady, you may spare him. Otherwise, cut his miserable throat." She lofted a sketch of a gruff human man. "This is Scarlet Commander Mograine, the other leader of the Monastery forces, and Trias' partner in crime. Kill him." Her final picture was of a slender, pale human female in a weird hat. "Your last target is High Inquisitor Whitemane. _Sally_. She's Mograine's wife, and a high-ranking member of the Crusade in her own right." Carolyn paused a moment to touch a thin scar on her moldy cheek. "Make the bitch suffer."

Iyania smiled. Savenia and Mitexi looked at each other worriedly. Vorrel continued staring blankly ahead—what was with that guy?—and I chuckled softly to myself. "We can do that," I chimed in.

Carolyn shot me a grim smile. "See that you do. Once you're done, you'll have the keys to open the door to Trias, hiding like a rat in here," she pointed to a circular chamber labeled _Crusaders' Crypt_ and added, "Our spies indicate that Trias sealed himself in that room yesterday, with instructions not to be disturbed until tomorrow. Whatever he's up to in there, I want you to stop it. Kill the traitor, bring me his head—or his signet ring, if you mutilate him too much—and you will be _amply_ rewarded."

"Rewarded by whom?" Iyania asked. Same thing I was wondering.

"Well, for starters, you'll have your revenge," Carolyn rebutted. "That should be payment enough. Any treasure you locate within the Monastery is yours to keep. Beyond that, the Dark Lady has been informed of your intended mission, and she has expressed a desire to repay those who secure these lands in the name of the Forsaken. I'm certain your actions will not go unnoticed by our Queen."

Iyania and I nodded. "Good enough for me. When do we move out?" I asked.

Carolyn grinned. "As soon as you give the word, Shadowstalker Blightfire. You're leading this group." She handed me the rolled-up map and the sketches. "Things are in your hands now."

_Me? In charge?_ I displayed my surprise with a startled gasp. "Um… very well." Iyania was giving me a rather jealous look, but the other three seemed pleased that I'd been put in command. Okay. Perfect. I could take care of all of this.

"Now, if you've no further questions, I'll be on my way. The armory of the Shadowstalkers is open to you," she pointed down the hallway, "so grab whatever you need. Report back when the job is done." In true Rogue fashion, Carolyn hurled a smoke pellet and Vanished from sight, leaving only the echo of a cackle in her wake. The five of us sat there, looking at each other.

"Well," I finally spoke up, breaking the silence. "Shall we?"

* * *

"We hunger for vengeance!" Bloodmage Thalnos cried as Vorrel charged toward him. The warrior's shield took the brunt of the first shadow bolt, and Mitexi and I replied with a few bolts of our own. The skeleton's tattered robes fluttered as fire, shade, and blades struck him. He unleashed a column of hellfire beneath our feet, forcing us to leap aside to safety. Mitexi took a hit on her legs. Savenia quickly healed the wound with a beam of golden light from her fingertips. I ordered Helyla to maintain her assault as the fight raged on; the sound of her whip joined the cacophony of battle cries and weapon clangs.

"Die, foul Scourge!" Iyania cried as she stabbed the bonebag again and again, twirling and slashing. Vorrel, meanwhile, kept quiet, just as he had the whole way in here. Our infiltration of the Graveyard was remarkably easy; with Scourge running around everywhere, it was practically a cakewalk to slip through the few Scarlet guards trying to hold a breach in one of the walls. We'd killed a number of ghosts, zombies, and skeletons as we'd traversed the eerie cemetery grounds. Thalnos was the final barrier to entry. Beyond the crypt he guarded awaited the doors to the Monastery proper, and the true beginning of our mission.

Vorrel spun the axe in his hand once, then brought it down hard on the Bloodmage's exposed skull. The fiend let out a haunting wail. Mitexi and I fired off a few more shadowbolts, as Iyania used a bit of leverage to dislocate some of our adversary's ribs. It wasn't much of a fight after that. With a final cry and another burst of flames—which we all dodged adeptly—Bloodmage Thalnos was no more. His lifeless bones clattered to the cold stone.

"Success!" I cheered, my voice echoing in the otherwise quiet tomb. "Now, let's rest a moment before we enter the Monastery. We have a lot of work ahead."

The five of us, after rummaging through Thalnos' gear—new shoulder pads for me, and an enchanted orb for Mitexi—took a seat on the cobblestones and relaxed. The mana-users sipped from skins of moonberry juice, a refreshing, fruity cocktail, while Vorrel and Iyania chewed on pieces of moon harvest pumpkin.

"This is pretty easy so far," Mitexi commented. "The Scourge out there weren't hard to kill at all."

The others nodded. "Agreed. But I suspect the Scarlets inside will put up more of a fight than these mindless ghouls," Iyania told us.

"Yes," I said to everyone, "once we're inside, I want everyone to keep on their guard. We all knew what we were getting into when we signed up; we're going to annihilate the Scarlet presence within Tirisfal Glades, and we're going to do it before Trias even has time to realize what's happening." The assembled team nodded knowingly.

"Selama ashal'anore," Savenia said.

I hadn't a clue what that meant, but I assumed it was positive. "Come, fellow adventurers. Let's continue our mission." We rose and tromped through the catacombs, soon reaching the entrance to the building as marked on our map. I paused before the door, and turned to address my team. "Trias awaits, heroes. The time has come to bring him to justice. The world he betrayed us to join is about to end, by _our_ hands!"

Fists of righteous fury shot skyward, as cheers rang out in the dim halls:

"Anar'alah belore!"

"For Silvermoon!"

"For the Forsaken!"

"For the _Horde!_"


End file.
